#the hogwarts house debates get MESSY

[ladysparklefarts]

I’ve been working on a fic that I plan to post eventually and to be perfectly honest it’s about the most Mary sue thing I’ve ever written. I have a lot of reasons for writing it, mostly cuz I wanna. But I’ve also been using it as a way to explore certain aspects of myself since it is a self-insert fanfic, in the most literal way possible. It basically explores what I would do if I ended up Isekai’d in Star Wars in the prequels. And yes I do plan on trying to give EVERYONE the happy ending I feel they deserve. I will also be dropping references left and right, introducing au’s that explore reverse circumstances, potential crossovers, and assorted other shenaniganry. I will also put this pre-post warning here. I am also using this to explore and move past certain traumas so please, TAKE CAUTION WHEN READING THIS STORY. I am trying my best to make this a rom-com type series but there will be some very dark moments as I work through my past issues. I have no doubts there will be people unhappy with the story, but I’m sure there will also be people who enjoy it as much as I’ve enjoyed writing it thus far. The first however many chapters will be written in a first-person perspective until the main character has conquered her first major hurdle and can see past her own perspective. One of the biggest parts of the story will be the main character’s relationship with Anakin as he represents a lot of the issues I have dealt with, be it how i see myself or how certain toxic relationships have affected me. By giving him a happy ending and developing his character a certain way i hope to be able to work through those issues one situation at a time. So yeah, its gonna be me marysueing it up across the galaxy, fixing my brain, making good people happy, and wrecking the bad ones through hijinks and shenanigans. 

[slytherinboysappreciation]

Hello! It's me againn and guess what 😈😈 Yes! I got another idea for Tom Riddle and m!reader 😋😋

Ekhem- so basically Tom was assigned to tutor this boy who was known for his lack of effort in class, he would sleep nor just ditched out the classes. So, as a nice Headboy he was, Tom decided to accept the task to tutor the boy and behold! The boy just sleeping the whole time Tom explain smth to him. So yeah Tom's mad n reader was like "Huh why r u mad? I don't even need tutor in the 1st place..." So Tom's gotten more mad 😔 and reader would like 🧍‍♂️

AHAHAHA n then as an apology, reader shows up to Tom after the exam ended n gave him his exam papers and oh boy this mf got O (Outstanding) for all the subjects, turns out the reader is able to do the school works from the beginning but he just won't do it bc he's a lazy ass bitch. Then Tom's reaction would be "🧍‍♂️...Yeah, i need those genes for my kids 😍"

THIS IS SO MESSY LMAO im sorry here's sum oranges for ur wonderful writing 🍊🍊🍊

Tutoring - T. R. x male!Reader

A/N: Thank you so much!! I love seeing you in my ask box! I hope this is what you were wanting 💛 Sorry about the ending lol. I couldn’t for the life of me figure out how to end it well.

I think I tagged everything, but let me know if I missed something! Fic is unedited with no use of Y/N

Anyway, have some hearts for sending me so many amazing requests! 💛💛💛💛

CW: Tom being fed up; anger; laziness; yelling; Tom gets fairly upset in this; somewhat mean words towards the reader; making up; brief compliment towards Tom; Abraxas and Tom are friends in this; Tom gets a little bit obsessed with reader; Tom’s evil plans

1144 words

It was a little known fact that Tom loved tutoring. For more selfish reasons than he’d care to admit, but he loved it all the same.

It was the rush of power he felt when a teacher came to him on behalf of yet another student. It was the pride when a student finally understood the material.

It was even the knowledge that Tom was smarter than most of the students at Hogwarts.

And yet, for all his love of tutoring, he was seriously debating quitting.

Why?

The answer was simple. You.

Tom had agreed to tutor you as a favor to Professor Slughorn. It wasn’t even for extra credit; a rare occasion of Tom being nice.

The professor was clearly fed up with you, and Tom was more than willing to take on a challenge.

And oh, what a challenge you were.

You were late to your first tutoring session, completely missed the second one, and slept through the third one.

You’d apologized, of course; but by the fourth tutoring session, it was clear you just didn’t have the motivation to study.

And it infuriated Tom.

He’d never failed as a tutor before, and he certainly wasn’t going to fail now.

When your eyes start to droop for the third time in ten minutes during your next study session, Tom’s patience runs out.

“Were you attending a party last night?” he demands, hands clenched. “What in Merlin’s name could have made you so tired?”

You startle, blearily lifting your head and rubbing at your eyes. “You think I’m cool enough to attend a party?”

It sounds like a genuine question, one Tom refuses to answer.

“What. Kept. You. Up?”

“My roommates.” You yawn and settle back into your seat. “They were having fun or something. Bein’ loud. Kept me up most of the night.”

Tom’s fists unclench. He takes a deep breath. “And do they do this every night?”

“Well… sort of…?” You fiddle with your quill. “Not every night, but…”

Tom pinches the bridge of his nose. “Talk to your Head of House about it. They’ll deal with your noisy roommates.”

“Alright.” You give him a small smile. Tom doesn’t return it.

“Now, for your potions essay…”

You slump in your seat.

But Tom counts it as a win when it takes you a few minutes longer than usual before your head starts drooping again.

You’re falling asleep yet again, and Tom has had it with you.

He slams the potions guide down on the table, startling you awake.

“Merlin, what the—“

“What—“ Tom seethes, “—is wrong with you?”

You blink, clearly taken aback. “Uhhh…”

“I have done my absolute best to ensure you don’t fail your exams next week, and you have done nothing but laze about and sleep!”

“Look, Riddle, just chill out.” You hold up your hands placatingly, giving him a weak smile. “I don’t get why you’re so upset. Professor Slughorn said you wanted to tutor me.”

“Well, not anymore! I am through with you!” Tom stands, fists clenched. “You have driven me to my wit’s end! If you’re not going to bother even trying to focus, I’m not going to bother trying to help you!”

“Hey—“

“I quit!” Tom snaps.

You stare at him, stunned. Then you cross your arms. “Well, fine! Merlin knows I never needed a tutor in the first place!”

Tom glares at you and angrily gathers his things.

It doesn’t feel good to quit. But he’s never felt so helpless before. You just simply seem to refuse to learn.

As he stalks away, though, there’s an odd pull at his heart. Maybe it was something about the unhappiness in your eyes. Or the way your fingers trembled as they gripped your quill.

Whatever it was, Tom squashes the feeling like a bug. He’s done with you. Not even a favor from Slughorn could tempt him to take you on again.

Of that, he is certain.

Tom’s sitting with Abraxas in the main hall, celebrating his exam scores. All Outstandings and Exceeds Expectations, even for Divination and Herbology.

He’s particularly proud of his O in Potions, proof that he knows the material well.

He’s just about to bite into a pumpkin pastry when there’s a soft cough behind him.

He turns, raising an eyebrow. It’s you, looking quite sheepish.

“Hey, Riddle.”

Tom purses his lips together thinly and crosses his arms. “Hello.”

You shuffle your feet and rub the back of your neck. “I know you were really mad at me,” you mumble, “But I wanted to explain myself a bit…”

“Then explain.”

You take a deep breath and pull a piece of paper from your pocket. It’s your report card for the exams.

Tom takes it, expecting to see some sort of dismal grade requiring his assistance.

But instead, what greets him is the best set of scores he’s ever seen. All Outstandings, in every class.

Tom stares at the report card, utterly baffled. “What?”

You rub the back of your neck again, not meeting his gaze. “I told you, I didn’t need a tutor. I can do the work. I just don’t like it.”

Tom slowly looks up from the report card. “You… just don’t like it…?”

You shrug. “Schoolwork’s boring. I’d rather do something else instead.”

Tom’s brain is a whirl. You were capable of doing the coursework already. More so, you knew everything well enough to get Outstandings in every class, something even he failed to do.

Tom hands you back your report card. “I owe you an apology then.”

“Nah,” you laugh softly and shuffle your feet. “Don’t worry about it. ‘Sides, you’re kinda cute all angry ‘n’ stuff.”

Tom blinks. You shrug and give him an awkward smile. “See you around, Riddle.”

“Right…” He watches as you walk away.

Then he turns quickly to Abraxas. “Malfoy, he had all Outstandings.”

Abraxas glances at him once, then does a double take. “Oh, no. I know that look. What are you planning?”

Tom grins. “Surely you see it? A brain that smart, when paired with my cunning? We’d be unstoppable.”

Abraxas glances at where you’d been standing. “Tom, I don’t know about this…”

But Tom’s mind is already at work. You already thought he was cute once… With the right sort of manipulation, perhaps he could get you to think it again.

Perhaps he could get you to fall in love with him.

“Just think about it, Malfoy. Our children would be geniuses!”

Abraxas just sighs. He shakes his head, but Tom ignores him. His plan is forming in his mind; his perfect plan to get you to fall in love with him.

With only a little bit of persuasion, he’ll get you to fall in love with him. And then you’ll be his lover forever. The other half to his genius.

And then all his plans will be perfected.

[peartheshame]

Remus Lupin, 2021:

Retired secondary school teacher

Taught literature after getting a degree after Hogwarts

Got fired a few times for his "unorthodox" teaching methods

All of his students over the years loved him

Some of them even go visit him to listen to his stories and his advice

Has a small scar on his forehead from his and Sirius' 1st Pride in '81

It's the one scar he doesn't mind showing

Remained very politically active in muggle politics

Was the kind of teacher that gives his opinion without giving it (nods, raising his eyebrows, satisfied smiles)

So all of his students knew he was a raging leftist (yes remus is a leftist you asses)

Really liked oragnising debates in his classroom

His students always gifted him socks for Christmas

Sirius always brought him flowers on the last day of school and Remus complained that the students liked him better

Wrote a book on new teaching techniques and dynamics

Was the teacher the queer kids came out to

Accidentaly swore in class

Learned to crochet, learned it relieved stress, so Sirius and Jily's kids sport new hats and gloves every winter

Big fan of the Hunger Games after a student recommended it to him

Dedicates a whole week to thoroughly dissecating it in class

Uses magic only at home

The whole week before Halloween, he, Sirius, James, and Peter have a big prank event. Still going strong at 60

Smokes the juul thing and Sirius snobs him because he refuses to smoke anything other than prerolled cigs

"What flavor did you choose today, Moony? Mango? Strawberry shortcake? Pumpkin pastries?" "Fuck off." "Tobacco?"

Before the full moon he and Sirius go on long walks to keep a good shape

Thanks to Lily's work, the transformations aren't as bad as before

He still is a bit sore but that's just his bones getting old

He went full gray at 47 and Sirius teases him constantly

When Sirius gets in a mood he does the cooking

Meaning they eat pasta for two full days

He's the BIGGEST music snob ans refuses to listen to anything that came out after '90

Until he finds Hozier and his little lit nerd heart is full

Can't stand musicals but Lily and Sirius are the biggest Hadestown fans

He really likes TV sitcoms though

His favorite is Parks and Rec because he can make fun of Americans and their govt

(Although he cannot go one day without ranting about the bristish govt and the fuCKING MORNARCHY, PADS)

April 8th and 9th are his favorite days ever

Organized a party for each occasion

Had previously vowed he would outlive Thatcher and Prince Philip

Plans to outlive the queen and Boris Johnson too

"I swear that's the only bloody thing keeping him alive, Prongs."

He and Sirius got married under muggle law on June 12th 2014 in Wales

The only guests were Lily and James and ONLY because they needed witnesses

They live in a cottage in the Welsh countryside

The sea is just an hour away by drive

Remus has an old volkswagen that Sirius hates

(But that's fair because Remus hates Sirius' motorcycles)

The house is messy but it's cozy and Remus loves coming home to his husband

He still wears jumpers all year but finally agrees to take his top off at the beach and at James and Lily's pool

Easter is spent at theirs and for Christmas they go to James and Lily's

But they see each other for tea every weekend

Ever since his retirement he works at the local library

He got one tattoo and it's a small cat just to piss off Sirius

The story behind it is Lily's 40th birthday party where he got proper drunk for the first time in ages

He and Sirius had fought about a plate of broccolis forgotten on the couch

So to get back at him he got a cat tattoo on his forearm

It's small but Sirius didn't talk to him for a week

Now it has been nicknamed "Pissy"

He's the godfather of James and Lily's second kid

Harry's children love their great uncle Moony and their uncle Padfoot

(Sirius refuses to be called "old" in any way shape or form)

Remus really likes the title he wasn't expecting to make it this far

[remakethestars]

RAVENCLAW 💙🦅🤎

Headcanons.

❝Even in the blackness, light can be found. My enemy can be outsmarted.❞

— Alex Hirsch, Journal 3

This is my house, y'all; buckle up!

Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, & Slytherin. Headcanon masterlist.

The door'll let you in for witty responses.

We prop it open during exam season, when everyone's coming back from dinner, on party nights, & when no one can solve the riddle.

Questions become more difficult to answer after curfew.

Everyone waits outside & pretends not to know first night until the first-years figure it out.

Today's riddle & answer posted on the back of the door every morning; check before you leave just in case.

Sometimes you find the prefects debating over what the answer is; no one leaves the common room until someone's figured it out, so sometimes, the entirety of Ravenclaw is late to breakfast.

Again, if we absolutely can’t, we’ll prop it open.

If the door’s propped open and you remove the prop, we’ll use the guillotine on you.

Everyone has at least one hill to die on.

There's a podium by the fireplace with a record book on it of all the books in Ravenclaw's library that you can ask for help finding books from (pages flip in their own). 

If you’re in a reading slump, describe what you're looking for; we've probably got it!

If you don't like writing & highlighting in the books, it'll disappear while you have it, but everyone's free to mark in them. 

So good at reading their own messy notes and the notes their friends wrote they can read a doctor's handwriting.

And there are notes everywhere. As organized as some Raveclaws wish they could be, you can't make notebooks & journals as organized as Google Doc & Word documents. Unless, ya know … someone made a spell for that — hold on, I gotta write that down!

Professors find notes — ideas for spells & potions — on the back of homework & tests. More knowledgeable teachers will add their ideas or advice before handing it back.

Everyone leaves a copy of their favorite book with annotations before they leave seventh year. 

There's a coffee/tea cart in the common room. 

Hallways to the dorms are covered in graffiti from students long passed.

Dorms branch off based on your year. 

Girls can walk into the boy's dorms & vice versa. 

All rooms are extended for more space.

Beds are built into the wall like window seats & have bookshelves where the head and footboards should be. 

Dark blue curtains can be drawn shut if you're feeling introverted. 

Trunks go under the bed, so they're kinda high off the ground.

Cast an extension charm if you’re claustrophobic.

At the end of every year, everyone congregates in the common room, someone casts glisseo on the stairs to Ravenclaw tower, & everyone slides their trunks down (it's called "the trunk shoving").

No one gives a single sh¡t about house points.

Ravenclaw’s are always blowing something up & losing points.

Dramatic about stubbing their toe, but super casual about ending up in the hospital wing because they "wanted to test a hypothesis."

If you have a question or don't understand something, ask it loudly in the common room; someone will undoubtedly answer or direct you to another who can.

Just don't use bad grammar, or sixteen people will correct you in unison. 😅

Learn (a) new language(s) in the common room 20:00–21:00 Mon.–Fri.

Tutoring sessions are in the common room at 21:00–22:00 Mon.–Fri. Or ask for private lessons to work around your schedule.

If a particular teacher's sh¡t, we host a class in the common room after dinner.

Also, there're just classes for random stuff: art, budgeting, codes & code-breaking, cooking, dancing, darning, fencing, ice skating (in the winter months), knot tying, lock picking, makeup, Morse code, muggle martial arts, sewing…

First years are all offered a class on note taking.

A lot of us do our homework on Friday night so we don't have to worry about it all weekend, so there're no party activities tonight, but you can play a muggle board game if you want.

Karaoke on Saturday nights.

Dungeons & Dragons on Sunday nights.

D&D’s swapped out for a play once a month; screw the theater ban! (For an explanation of Hogwarts’s theater ban, see Albus Dumbledore’s notes on “The Fountain of Fair Fortune” in The Tales of Beedle the Bard.)

Morning yoga in the common room — feel free to join; we'll teach you some poses.

Ask around; whatever you're looking for — info, candy, contraband — someone probably hands it out, sells it, can get it for you, and/or can tell you where to find it.

Pass around a spell that allows them to clean themselves. Who has time for showering?

And a potion that gives them the same feeling & energy as if they slept. Who has time for sleeping?

Yes, we're building a guillotine in the common room.

Please don't utilize it in the decapitation of any living person or thing (unless it's the Snape or Umbridge)!

Our next project is a carousel. With working lights & everything.

Yes, we're building a house of cards in the common room; please don't blow on it.

Be quiet until noon on the weekends or get hexed.

Thank Merlin they teach sign language in the common room every year & everyone knows enough to get by.

Parties are highly regulated.

People volunteer to walk people back to their dorms & put up protection charms so you don't get assaulted. Those people are vetted with Veritaserum first to confirm the authenticity of their intentions.

People often get into academic debates, which can get a bit loud; just silencio them & move on.

The entrances to the dorms are hidden behind moving bookshelves.

The Ravenclaw copy of Hogwarts: A History will tell you more than you realized you needed to know; there're enough notes in the margins to make a second book, including how to enter the kitchens, how to sneak out if the castle, how to find the Room of Requirement…

They've located more secret passages & rooms in Hogwarts using spells they created than the Marauders were aware of.

First-years are told how to put extension charms on their backpacks so they're not heavy — that's a crap-ton of stairs.

There's an incredibly thick book by a armchair near the fireplace that's full of testaments of Ravenclaw's alumni. "What's one thing you wish you'd known when you started Hogwarts?" First-years are encouraged to flip through it.

And taught a low-concentration spell for levitating books while laying down so your arms don't get tired (flick wand to turn page).

Common room's extended to fit all kinds of activities (and the bookshelves).

Some third-years built an aquaponic system on top of one of the window seats; take a cucumber, if you want, or stop to look at the fish.

Again, explosions are not uncommon. (Please don’t drop any explosives in the fish tank. As water isn’t as compressible as air, this will kill the fish.)

Everyone just kinda glances over to make sure you’re okay before going back to what they were doing.

There's always a record playing.

They host a hike through the Forbidden Forest once a week, because what even are rules?

If you hear an intelligent conversation taking place, feel free to sit down & listen or jump in!

The wind whistles against the windows all year round, but they've been charmed to keep water out.

Played The Floor is Lava before it was a meme.

There's a two-way mirror on the wall above the fireplace. There's a muggle television on the other side. No one's sure whose T.V. it is, but a lady comes in in the mornings in hair curlers & watches the news.

She puts in V.H.S. tapes of Disney movies at the start of term. Hypothesis says it's for the first years & this person's a half-blood or a muggle-born.

Sometimes, people work together to solve the Friday crossword in The Daily Prophet. It's the hardest all week.

Look at each other like they're the camera in The Office when someone says something stupid.

Oh, boy, if someone's found a really good mystery book… That sh¡t’s getting magically copied & passed around. We discuss theories at meals, pass notes in class, & set up a murder board in the common room.

Actually, Ravenclaw house has solved a number of murders in its free time.

Visit my Ravenclaw YouTube playlist & Pinterest board.

DISCLAIMER ━━━ These headcanons are what I consider to be canon in my fanfictions. They may be others’s headcanons I’ve subconsciously filed away in my noggin. If one’s yours and you want it removed or credited, please send me your post and let me know.

[rosaliepostsstuff]

Chasing birds | T. W.

Talbott Winger x reader

not adding a taglist cause it's the first hphm fic I've posted so I'm not sure if you're into it

Summary: The reader realises Talbott is spending the holidays at Hogwarts and decides to stay behind too, to keep him company

Reader's house not specified!

Word count: 2195

Warnings: mentions of food, mentions of parent death, mentions of difficult family relationships

a/n: it's assumed the reader has helped him with the necklace, is an animagus (the form isn’t mentioned) and had the first date, valentines day and festival date with him. I also assumed the festival took place at the very beginning of year 5 while it was still summer and it's now the following winter.

Also, I pretended Bea didn’t get sucked into the portrait because I didn’t want Penny all sad.

It was safe to say that most of Hogwarts students were looking forward to the winter break. Some because of the Holidays, some purely because of the time off.

Some were counting down the days since the very beginning of the term, some since November 1st, some from the moment the castle grounds had been graced with the first snow of the season.

Winter had its own charm to it. The castle got its share of sunlight during the warmer months, towards the end of the school year, as the summer was approaching, and at the very beginning of it as the summer was slowly fading away. But once the grounds were covered in snow, the grand castle seemed even brighter – the winter sunlight and sky is different but all that light, reflecting off the snow and amplifying, seeped through the windows.

You were already filled with anticipation, more and more with each day that separated you from Christmas break.

You were currently counting down the minutes till the charms class ended, your last class that Friday – minutes to your last weekend before Christmas. You divided your attention between encouraging the blond Gryffindor in lifting his feather and the watch on your hand ticking away.

“Alright then, dear students, that’s all for today! Some of you I will not be seeing until the next term so I’d like to wish you all Merry Christmas, Happy New Year and may you all have a nice rest before the new term starts! Class dismissed.” Said Flitwick cheerfully as a chorus of thanks and all kinds of wishes followed, before the students began to pour out of the classroom.

“Gee, you’d think there was a fire…”  you heard Jae say groggily from behind you as he was getting up from his nap and stretched lazily. You looked at the crowd trying to squeeze through the door and chuckled, agreeing with him.

When the crowd thinned a bit, you saw someone you immediately recognised walk into the classroom. You smiled to yourself at the sight and involuntarily paused your actions to look at the tall boy in his Ravenclaw robes try to push through the students with a bit of a grimace on his face. You could almost hear his thoughts in your head.

“You coming, Y/N?” said Rowan from beside you.

At the sound of your name Talbott looked up in your direction and you briefly met his eyes. He smiled as soon as he saw you and you smiled back at him, waving your hand lightly. He raised his hand in response for just half a second before turning his attention to Flitwick.

“Coming,” you said quietly, turning to Rowan who now was standing with arms crossed on her chest and suppressing a grin.

“Ohh shut up..” you said jokingly flinging your bag over your shoulder.

“I did not say a thing..!” she countered, giggling.

On your way out, you managed to hear a bit of Talbott’s conversation with Flitwick.

“He’s staying at school for holidays..?” Rowan mentioned, looking over her shoulder after you left the classroom.

“Yeah…” you went quiet for a bit, thinking.

You had to admit, you hadn’t thought about it before, but it was quite logical. When you first learned about Talbott’s parents, you never pressed the topic further and you didn’t know whether he had any other family, someone to spend the holidays with. And during all those times you spent Christmas at Hogwarts, was he at the castle too? Hiding away somewhere, alone?

“You know, I gotta do something real quick. Meet you in the dorm later?” you said to your friend, already quickening your pace, finger-gunning in her direction.

“Sure, yeah,” she answered, a bit puzzled, yet entirely used to it.

 ——————⁛⁙⁘◊⁘⁙⁛——————

 “Oh I am so excited, I can’t wait! You see, each year Bea and I, we have a gingerbread house making contest. Neither one of us is very good at it, but it’s so much fun. Mum always has both of them on display…”

You listed to Penny ramble in excitement about Christmas over dinner and couldn’t help but smile a bit.

“Oooh, Talbott! Talbott, come on over here!” she called over your head all of a sudden, waving energetically at the boy who just looked as if he got caught, but walked over to your table anyway, then sat down opposite you with a quiet greeting.

“What about you, Y/N? Are you going home for the holidays this year?” Penny asked curiously.

Your heart rate picked up a bit, before you answered, “No, I’m staying here,” you glanced at Talbott and met his eyes before he looked back down onto his plate.

“Oh, ok,” said Penny, before changing the topic.

 ——————⁛⁙⁘◊⁘⁙⁛——————

 The case with Talbott wasn’t so easy. Your crush on him started with you being simply intrigued. You met him in your third year and there was just something about him that wouldn’t allow you to just let him be, no matter how tall he put up his walls. You felt the need to make him feel comfortable around you and you wanted to get to know him better. That’s how you became friends.

But when you did get to know him, that’s when you were truly lost. His wit, sarcastic sense of humour. His calmness and collectiveness. And him opening up to you felt more rewarding than anything else.

There were so many moments between you, the dates you went on, where you wanted to just take a dive and go all in, and each time you were closer to doing so. But in the end, you were scared of scaring him away, even if he showed time and time that he felt the same way. He even announced out loud that you were his date at the festival!

Still, each time you got back to the starting point, stuck somewhere between friends and lovers.

 ——————⁛⁙⁘◊⁘⁙⁛——————

 You woke up a bit giddy and slightly nervous. Last afternoon all the students not staying at school for the holidays left. You got freshened up and dressed, then headed to the great hall for breakfast.

When you walked through the great entrance you scanned the four, almost empty tables. And there he was indeed, at the very end of the Ravenclaw table, as usual.

“Talbott!” you greeted, sliding into the seat next to him.

He hadn’t noticed you approaching and got a bit startled, “Y/N, Merlin…” he said, putting down his toast and placing a hand over his chest, “what are you doing here?”

“Tsk, already so accusatory. I came here to have breakfast with you and spend some quality time together!” You said in an exaggerated tone.

You could’ve sworn you saw a hint of a smile creeping up onto his face and he looked around the whole room.

He scanned the tables to see if any other friends of yours stayed over the holidays or if maybe there were none, leaving you with no other choice but to sit with him. Upon noticing Chiara and Jae a bit further away he turned back around lifted one eyebrow, acknowledging, and took a sip of his coffee.

Suddenly, you became painfully aware that the last time you properly spend time together, with just the two of you, was during the outdoor festival. And there you were, sitting side by side, doing something so casual and everyday as having breakfast.

It was also uncommon for you to see Talbott out of his school robes. He had this magical talent of looking good in just about anything. He was wearing a pair of dark jeans and a plain turtleneck, his hair, as always, smart and neat and just the right amount of messy.

“Aren’t you eating?” he called you out with a bit of a smirk, not gracing you with a glance, and got back to his own food.

With a guilty blush and no confidence to strike up a further conversation, you focused on your breakfast.

“So how are you doing lately?” he asked after a few minutes, having finished eating, and sipped on the rest of his coffee slowly.

“Uh, alright. Considering everything,” you answered and he nodded slowly. “You?”

He shrugged his shoulders with an indifferent expression, “As per usual. So what made you stay at school this year? Your mum away..?” he inquired.

“Eeh… irrelevant,” you tried to dismiss the question.

“Ooh-kaay…” Talbott replied.

“Do you have any plans?” you asked quickly.

“Uhh… I was going to just read for a bit..?”

“Great! And in general, for the holidays?” you questioned further.

“Y/N, where are you going with this?” he asked, puzzled.

You mustered up all your courage for the moment you’ve been waiting for since you told your head of the house you’d be staying in the castle for the holidays.

“I thought we could spend Christmas together,” you started, taking Talbott by surprise.

“Y/N, do I look like a Christmas person to you?” he asked after a second.

You looked him up and down, “Very much so.”

He sighed deeply and leaned his elbows on the table, hiding his face in his hands. You knew he was debating it and you almost had him on board.

“Aww, come on, Tal! It’ll be fun!” You shook him by the shoulders, making him groan.

“I swear, you’ll be the death of me,” he said and you tried to tame the grin on your face and the butterflies in your stomach.

 After finishing your food you rushed to your dorm to owl Rowan as quickly as possible.

 ——————⁛⁙⁘◊⁘⁙⁛——————

 “Do you like snow?” you questioned after you went outside into the grounds.

Talbott chuckled, “Who do you take me for? I’m not that much of a bore, am I?” he teased you.

“No, I just…” you mumbled.

“Although it does get in the way when you try to fly during a snowfall…” he cut you off, walking a bit further, and crouched down, facing away from you.

It took you a second to realize what he was doing. You looked around, trying to find cover and ducked, but it was too late, you got hit with a snowball.

If you weren’t so focused on getting revenge, which turned into a full snow fight, maybe you’d take some time to admire him. The way little snowflakes rested on his hair, how his eyes looked when he focused or how bright he was smiling.

“Alright, alright, I surrender!” Talbott put his hands up and you felt relief, as you were starting to get tired, but you didn’t have it in you to give in first.

“Don’t mess with the curse-breaker, Winger,” you said in playful smugness, walking out from behind your cover and up to him.

“Yeah, yeah…” he started, “go inside or you’ll freeze, you’re covered in snow” he brushed some of it off your shoulder, and you were glad you had already been blushing from the cold.

 ——————⁛⁙⁘◊⁘⁙⁛——————

 “On the Christmas morning Jacob and I used to wake up to a pile of presents at the foot the bed each,” you started, “I always loved Christmas. But after he disappeared things at home changed. I know mum is trying, but it’s difficult sometimes, especially during the holidays…” You reminisced, looking down at your hands wrapped around a mug of hot chocolate.

“My mum really liked Christmas,” Talbott said, “She’d always get so into it, with the decorations, she used to make them herself, too… and she’d sing to me. I don’t think my dad was as much into it, but he tried to keep up for her,” he smiled a little wider to himself. “It was really nice,” he confided.

Your heart ached for the boy next to you. After he had to go through so much, you deeply wished to make it your mission, to bring as much happiness to his life as you could, even if to brighten it up just a little.

“So you don’t hate Christmas after all, huh..?” you said quietly.

He answered after a moment, “No, not Christmas itself.”

“I was hoping I could make it a little bit better. Maybe show you that it can still be nice,” you confessed.

He looked up at you, “That’s… Y/N, I don’t know what to say,” he trailed off.

Unsure of where to go from there either, you took one of his hands in yours.

“Y/N,” he softly prompted you to look up at him.

His face was close to yours and he glanced between your eyes and your lips, silently asking for permission. You inched a bit closer and he closed the distance, cupping your cheek with his hand.

Unsure at first, he relaxed after a second and you melted into him. His lips were really soft and warm an you placed your hands on his shoulders. You could smell his perfume mixed with his natural smell, the smell you adored, and which brought you comfort. Talbott kissed you tenderly and you felt absolutely ecstatic, sure that if he weren’t holding onto you, you’d collapse.

He pulled away only slightly and rested his forehead on yours.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N,” he whispered.

“Merry Christmas, Talbott.”

[plant-flwrs]

hi!! can i request a sad fred/george out past curfew after doing a prank or detention and they find (more like smell) the reader making sweets from the kitchens - he falls in love with her bc she helps him feel better and everything she does reminds him of home and his family 🥺 thank u!

sweet treats // george weasley

masterlist!

a/n: i love this request! it’s such a cute little blurb and idea and i hope i did it justice! i might even like ur request more than what i wrote 😳 n e way i hope u like it!!! thanks for requesting!!!

------

He knew the sound of his feet shuffling on the stone floor was audible, the risk of getting caught after curfew loomed over him like a rain cloud. It usually would have thrilled him, but right now he couldn’t feel anything besides paralyzing fear and worry.

It had only been a day since Ginny went missing, presumably taken into the Chamber of Secrets, and George was nauseated every minute since he found out. He hadn’t been able to sleep, and he didn’t think he would ever sleep again. His eyes felt heavy, but his mind whirled with every possibility of what was happening to Ginny. The entire castle felt different, every looming shadow felt like a threat, and every hidden passageway felt like a death trap.

He made sure to avoid all shadows, and walked cautiously in the center of the hallway. He hadn’t even bothered to take the map with him, deciding he didn’t care if Filch caught him.

He walked aimlessly. The only thing on his mind was Ginny. He felt his eyes watering, and didn’t bother to wipe the tears away.

He hadn’t known how long he had been out of bed for. He was nearing back to the common room, walking past the Great Hall. The massive doors were cracked open, and the dim light of a few candles shown through the small opening. George shuffled in, deciding to sit at the table for a minute. His eyes fell on the spot where Ginny had last sat for dinner, and his body felt weak. He sat there, where she had sat, and ran his hands over the wood. Tears fell from his eyes and onto the table. He looked up, glancing at the enchanted ceiling above him. The sky had clouded and the dazzling stars were barely noticeable.

Regaining some composure, he lifted himself from the bench. He then looked around, trying to find where the light was coming from. He noticed that the door leading down to the kitchens was ajar, light spilling from the entrance as it did the Great Hall. He walked over to the door, wiping his face of any tears. Pulling it open, he was rushed by the smell of pumpkin and baked goods. He looked over his shoulder, making sure no one saw him start down the stairs. He made one last effort to conceal the fact that he had been crying, bringing the neck of his sweatshirt up to wipe his face.

He pulled open the door to the kitchen, and the smell was stronger. It reminded him of a specific moment of his childhood. He had woken up in the middle of the night, feeling scared from a nightmare he had. He stumbled down the rickety stairs of his house, going to get a glass of water. There was candlelight illuminating the bottom of the stairs, and he followed the light. He turned the corner to see his mother pulling cookies from the oven. She turned to place them on the counter and nearly dropped them when she saw George watching her.

“Fred?” she narrowed her eyes, shaking her head, “George, what are you doing up?”

He shrugged, moving to sit at the table, “had a bad dream.”

His mother looked at him suspiciously, trying to decide if the mischievous boy was telling the truth. She saw the sweat stained brim of his shirt, his watery eyes, and his disheveled hair. She filled a glass with some milk and put a couple of cookies on a plate. She brought them over to George and sat next to him.

“It was just a dream, dear,” she said, placing a hand over his.

He drank the milk and ate a cookie, feeling very grateful for his mother’s cooking skills.

“I know, just scary, ‘s all,” George said.

“You’re alright now,” she smiled at her son, pulling his head to rest on her shoulder, “safe and sound.”

 He leaned into her touch, still chewing on some of the cookie. His eyes felt heavy and he nearly fell asleep there, safe in his mother’s embrace.

Peeking into the Hogwarts kitchen, he was disappointed when he didn’t see his mother making cookies. Instead, he saw a girl from his year leaning over an old and tattered book, twirling her wand between her fingers. Bowls and utensils littered the counter around her, some flour and batter stained her pajama shirt.

You furrowed your brow, reading the cookbook intently. You were trying to figure out how much was too much pumpkin essence, always feeling tempted to add extra. You read your messy handwriting on the side of the page, a note you had left to yourself about not adding too much of the sweet ingredient. 

George watched you brush some hair out of your face, leaving a trail of flour on your forehead. You moved back to a large bowl, opening a bottle in the shape of a pumpkin and pouring it generously into the bowl. You bit your lip in concentration, capping the bottle when you were done. He watched your eyes flicker to your wand before you picked up a wooden spoon, deciding to do it by hand. You stirred the mixture, and once you were satisfied, you ate a little bit off the spoon. Smiling to yourself, you reached for a pan across the counter. You applied some parchment paper and began to spoon on scoops of the mixture.

George was debating whether or not to go back upstairs. He would climb into the unfamiliar bed, try to fall asleep but be unable to, haunted with worry. He heard a noise from above him, and startled, opening the door to the kitchen and shutting t it behind him.

“Ah!” you yelped, dropping the wooden spoon with a clatter to the floor. 

You stared at the boy, who had his back pressed against the door. He looked sad. Big, heavy, purple bags hung from under his eyes and his skin was ghostly pale. You recognized him to be one of the Weasley twins, and you narrowed your eyes at him, trying to figure out which one he was. You bent to pick up the spoon, meeting your eyes with his once you straightened. He began moving from the door, standing awkwardly behind the counter between you two.

“Hi,” you said, wiping your hands on a rag.

“Hi,” he said, his voice cracking. 

He looked down at the floor, seeming to be embarrassed.

“What are you doing down here?” you asked him, putting the dirty spoon on the counter.

“I couldn’t sleep. I was walking around the castle when I smelled something down here,” he said, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his plaid pajama pants.

“Oh,” you replied, looking down at the mess you made in the kitchen.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“I was baking. I bake when I can’t sleep,” you smiled nervously at him, thinking he might find you odd.

He hadn’t found you odd. He smiled fondly, and nodded his head. 

“Do you mind if I stay down here?” he asked.

“Not at all,” you responded, blushing from the way he smiled at you.

You took the spoon to the sink and washed it, bringing it back to the bowl. George sat at a small wooden table a few feet away, where he could still see you. The chair was far too small for his long body, and he realized it was because it was made for house elves. He watched you begin to scoop the batter again, the pan nearly full now.

“What are you making?” he asked.

“Pumpkin cookies,” you said, not looking up from your batter.

George smiled again, a small smile he couldn’t seem to wipe off. Moments ago he had been torn with worry, but now he felt strangely at peace with you in the kitchen.

Your face was illuminated by the candles on the counter, an orange glow warping your features. He thought you were very beautiful in the candle light and he felt very comforted just by your presence.

You could feel George’s eyes on you, but you didn’t mind. You could tell something was bothering him, and you had heard about what had happened to his sister. You felt terribly bad for all the Weasleys. You had seen the redheads moping in the halls, and many people in Gryffindor ties were crying in the halls.

You slid the cookies into the large oven by your feet, and looked at the clock to mark when they would be done. You wiped your hands on the rag, and picked up your wand. You moved all the dirty bowls and kitchen equipment to the large sink, where you then casted a charm to make them wash themselves. You looked at the kitchen one last time, feeling accomplished, and moved to sit with George. 

You smiled widely at him, looking at his large legs bent awkwardly as he sat in the chair that was too small for him. You bent a little too, fitting into the chair easier than George did. You looked at him, his eyes cast down at his hands in his lap.

“Are you alright?” you asked.

His eyes met yours and his brow furrowed. His lips were pulled into a tight line. 

“Not really,” he said, his voice weak.

“I’m sorry,” you hadn’t wanted to say what you were sorry for, in case he didn’t want to hear it. 

He nodded appreciatively at you, and his eyes fell back down to his lap.

“I couldn’t sleep either,” you broke the silence, hoping that you could distract him from his thoughts.

He looked back up at you, interest piqued. He raised his eyebrows as if to ask you why, and you sighed.

“I’m feeling a bit homesick, I suppose. My mum wrote to me today and it made me miss her even more,” you said, bringing the letter from your pocket. You twisted it in your hands and placed it on the table. You had brought it down with you to read again while you ate the cookies.

“I guess I am too,” George said, looking back at the kitchen where you had been, “my mom bakes a lot. She’s a great baker.”

George seemed like he was trying not to cry, and you frowned at him. You reached forward and placed a comforting hand over his on the table.

“She sounds lovely,” you said.

He looked at your hands, swallowing back some tears. He ran his free hand through his hair, pushing it off his face. He turned his hand up so your palms were touching. He closed his hand around yours and squeezed it.

He looked up at you, meeting your concerned eyes with his sad ones. The two of you sat like that for a while, holding hands.

You eventually glanced at the clock, and felt glad to see that your cookies were just about done. 

“The cookies should be done,” you said quietly, and the both of you retracted your hands.

George’s eyes followed you as you went to get the cookies. You waved your wand, and all of the now clean and dry dishes flew back to their right places. You levitated the pan from the oven, putting it to rest on the counter. You retrieved a large plate from a cabinet, and a spatula from a drawer. You dished the cookies onto the plate and got two glasses from another cabinet. You pulled open a fridge and got a jug of milk. George smiled fondly at you, his heart spinning in his chest.

You balance the plate on the inside of your arm, your hands full with two glasses of milk. You put one glass in front of George and the plate of cookies between you two. The room filled with the wonderful smell of pumpkin, and George felt at home.

The two of you ate cookies together, and you were able to make George laugh a few times. He felt better, he wasn’t consumed with thoughts about his sister, and he felt like he could actually get some sleep.

You put the remaining cookies in a container you had conjured, closing the lid and holding the box in your hands. You and George stood at the bottom of the stairs, about to walk back up.

“I’m glad I found you here,” George said, turning to you.

“Me too, I’m glad you came.”

He smiled and sighed heavily, his eyes feeling very heavy.

“You made me feel a lot better, and the cookies were delicious.”

“Here,” you moved the container into his bigger hands, “you can have them.”

You shifted, moving your cookbook to fill the space in your hands.

“Oh no,” he said, holding them back out to you, “you made them.”

You shook your head, refusing to take them back.

“Are you sure?” you nodded your head, “Alright, thanks.”

You smiled up at him, and he smiled back down at you.

The two of you walked wordlessly upstairs, and you walked George back to his common room. You faced each other one last time, still smiling.

“Goodnight, Y/n,” he said, his voice hushed.

“Goodnight,” you replied, and started walking to your own common room.

George watched you until you turned the corner, his only thoughts about you.

The next morning, George’s eyes felt heavy and swollen from lack of sleep and crying. He had felt happy for a moment when he first woke, his mind still occupied by you, until he saw Fred’s abandoned bed next to his.

He pulled the covers off of him and changed from his pajamas. He wore his Weasley family sweater, feeling awfully homesick.

The Gryffindor common room was eerily quiet. Everyone’s mouths were in downcast frowns, moping around like scared animals.

George couldn’t stand it; he had to get some fresh air. He passed his brother on the couch, leaning into Angelina’s comforting arm. Their eyes met and neither of them smiled.

George stuffed his cold hands into the pockets of his jeans. He looked at the cloudy sky, sitting at a bench in the courtyard. He was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of a tin hitting the table in front of him. He looked towards the noise and saw you. You had put a tin full of assorted cookies on the table. You were wrapped in a scarf with your house colors on it, the tip of your nose pink.

“Hi, George,” you said, moving to sit across from him.

“Hi,” he smiled, relieved to see you again.

“I made these this morning, and I know it’s early, and you just had some yesterday,” you rambled, and George found it adorable, “but you looked like you could use some more.”

He looked at you, eyes full of adoration. He nodded happily, picking a cookie up and taking a large bite. His eyes closed in euphoria, appreciating how good of a baker you were.

“These are really good, thank you,” he said, taking another.

“No problem,” you said, pushing the tin forwards.

“Do you feel better?” he asked.

“Me? Oh, yeah,” you replied, smiling bashfully at him, happy to know he remembered what you said the night before.

“Good,” he said, smiling at the blush on your cheeks.

“What about you? You don’t have to talk about it, if you don’t want,” you told him, lowering your voice to a serious and comforting tone.

“I’m just worried, you know?” George said, his expression saddening at the thought of Ginny.

“I know, but I’m sure she’ll be fine, really,” you said, bringing your hand to cover his again. He smiled at them, turning his palm like he did last night and holding your hand.

“I hope so,” he said, squeezing your hand.

George and Fred left the infirmary, saying goodbye to their parents as the adults went to Dumbledore’s office. They began the walk to their common room, finally feeling a release from their shoulders. They had seen Ginny safe and sound, a bit torn up, but safe. Just as Fred said the password to the portrait, George realized there was only one person he wanted to see, and you weren’t in the Gryffindor common room.

He told Fred he had to go, and broke off into a run. He ran down the stairs, taking them by two, and his long legs carried him through the halls. He ran through the doors of the great hall and down the stairs to the kitchens.

He found you there, putting icing on a beautiful cake. You eyes shot up at him, and you smiled,

“George? What are you doing down here?” you asked, and he walked towards you.

“I had to see you, I had to tell you; they found Ginny,” he said, and he was breathing heavily. He couldn’t tell if it was from running or from being so close to you.

His face was inches away from yours, and his hands gripped your shoulders. 

“Oh! That’s great, I’m so glad!” you said, dropping your icing spatula and embracing George.

He wrapped his arms around you, breathing in the smell of freshly baked cake. He pulled you away from his chest, bringing his hands up to cup your cheeks. You stared at him, and he looked down at your lips. 

He closed the distance and kissed you gently. He tasted the sweet icing on your tongue, and smiled a little. Your hands were messy, but you didn’t care. You ran your hands through his hair, letting your fingernails drag through the red locks. You both pulled away, out of breath. He smiled at your swollen lips, and you smiled at the icing you had just rubbed all over his face.

You pulled out of his embrace, reaching for the rag on the counter. You brought it to his face and wiped away the sugary substance. You both stood there, smiling senselessly at each other.

“I baked a cake,” you said, “now it’s a celebration cake.”

“Can I have some?”

“Of course,” you moved away, finishing the frosting and slicing a generous piece for George.

You watched him take a bite, his mouth turning into an even wider smile.

“It’s delicious.”

[harrypotterximagines]

ANON: Sup, can we get a Harry Potter smut like the Neville one you wrote? // i sent the previous one in but can we get a cute harry smut? i LOVED ur Neville one 🥺

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Surprisingly, not a lot of people know that Harry is still a huge fan of Quidditch. After 19 years of trauma and trying to enjoy the good and precious moments he had at Hogwarts, people tend to forget that Quidditch was part of that memory. 

After becoming an Auror, Harry found his schedule becoming tighter as the days passed. His loyalty to the newfound Ministry and his job began to cloud work and personal time. He wouldn’t hang up his coat and boots until three in the morning or sometimes wouldn’t come back for the night at all.

On the lucky yet rare days when he came home in time for dinner, his face was scarred with cuts and bruises. His eyes glowed as he watched your face contort to surprise as he stepped into the kitchen, greeting you with a warm hug. Although glad he had a bit of time off to spend it with you, stress clouded his eyes and you could tell work was always on his mind.

You made is a personal promise to yourself that when Harry had free time after work, you highly encouraged him to go out and play a match of Quidditch with his mates. Although you wanted nothing more than to cuddle up on the couch with your lover and watch crappy reality television, you knew that his hobbies were equally as important.

On days like today, when the sky is a light gray, drizzle tapping lightly on your windows, you didn’t expect Harry to walk in at six in the evening, greeting you with a bubbly smile and a cheerful demeanor. His curly hair fell in front of his eyes, damp from the rain. His strong arms wrapped tightly around your body, kissing your forehead multiple times, slightly twirling around. 

His greetings were never subpar. Even when he was exhausted, he would plant multiple kisses on your forehead, letting you know that he was home. Harry smiled brightly down at you, cupping your face and kissing your lips. He took a seat at the kitchen table, leaning back against his chair and letting his tense body relax.

Asking him how work was, he would go on a long tangent about dementor debates amongst the people at the Ministry, still wondering if it was a safe idea to let them guard Azkaban or not. Although Harry thought it was inhumane and cruel to receive a dementor’s kiss, having experienced it before, many people disagreed against him.

You rubbed his shoulders as he spoke, occasionally kissing behind his ear, letting him know that he was working with idiots and he was, of course, the best Auror out there. However you didn’t let the topic of work linger farther, wanting to get it off his mind. Instead you drifted towards the stove and began to prepare the kettle.

In your hand, a pastel blue kettle was being filled with water when it was taken from your grasp. Harry lightly bumped your hip with his as he pushed you to the side, wanting to be the one to make tea for you instead. He looked down at you, wrapping an arm around your waist, whispering in your ear that you always treated him and that he needed to return the favor.

You took a step back as you watched Harry prepare the tea, your arms slowly slithering around his waist. You pressed his cheek against his firm back, a small smile tugging your lips. You believed to be the luckiest person in the world and in this moment, you believed that to be true.

After a moment of silence and enjoying the rain pattering against the windows, you felt a pair of arms hug you back. You rested your head on Harry’s chest, breathing in his scent. Normally he’d be sweaty and bloody from a hard days work, but today was a day of filing papers and bullshitting amongst coworkers.

Harry rubbed your back as you both remained silent, your mind focusing on the tranquility of the moment. Times like these, when the silence was the loudest thing in the room, you held it dearly to your heart. You found yourself surrounded by silence almost all the time. Being by yourself, whether it be shopping around or cleaning the house, the silence would bother you. You craved nothing more than to hear Harry’s laugh or obnoxiously terrible joke. But when you were in his arms, embraced by his warmth and surrounded by his scent, the silence was the most beautiful sound.

Harry kissed the top of your head to let you know that the water was done boiling, slowly leaving your hold as he prepped two mugs. You slinked to the kitchen chair, Harry placing a mug that matched the color of the kettle in front fo you. He made your favorite tea this time, telling you that you must be sick by making his.

You pressed the steaming hot mug to your bottom lip, letting the hot air burn your mouth. You watched Harry as he puffed the steam away, cringing as he burned his tongue but too impatient to wait for his tea to cool off. Your heart felt warm, placing your mug back down before taking a sip, waiting for it to cool off.

“No Quidditch today?” You asked, looking towards the window. It was always dreary in London, but the rain wasn’t as bad as usual. 

Harry shook his head, running a hand through his hair. After so many years, his scar was still as permanent as a freshly inked tattoo. You stared at the lightning bolt in admiration, insanely impressed that he accomplished so much at such a young age.

“Why not, darling?” You asked, resting your cheek on a balled fist. You lazily placed your legs on top of his lap, his smile widening, making your mouth do the same.

“I wanted to spend time with you today.” 

You bit the bottom of your lip, wanting to hide how excited you were to hear those words. The last thing you’d want Harry to think was that he shouldn’t be off playing Quidditch at all. You didn’t want your excitement to be taken as offense. You nodded, getting off your chair, replacing your legs with your body. You sat on his lap, your arms going around his neck.

“And what should we do with so many hours left in the day?” You questioned, a sly smile tugging the corners of your lips.

Harry quickly caught on to your train of thought, lifting you by the waist and wrapping your thighs around his hips.

“I have a brilliant idea,” He muttered, kissing your neck as he carried you off to your shared bedroom.

The flat you both shared was tiny by comfortable for two. Harry wasn’t fond of the idea of living large. He enjoyed a humble, suitable approach. Ironically, he said he enjoyed small spaces, feeling comfortable when he was closest to you.

Your bedroom housed multiple plants, ranging from succulents to cacti. It was a Bohemian feel, Harry finding the aesthetic of such decor appealing. He delicately placed you on top of your bed, soft, furry sheets greeting you both. The thud of his boots hit the floor as he climbed on top of you, his kisses creating a messy pattern all over your face.

Giggling as he tore your clothes off, alongside his, his hands grabbed and poked your sides. He never wanted to let you go. His palms slowly ran from your stomach to your forearms down to your hands, interlocking your fingers and squeezing your hands tightly.

His lips were on yours as he pushed himself into you, easing into the situation. He was always gentle at first, making sure you were comfortable. Depending on his mood, Harry could be completely aggressive and be his most dominant in bed. But when you both were sharing a moment like this, filled with laughter and small kisses, he showed his softer, gentler side.

Harry was slow yet firm as he made love to you, his hands staying locked with yours. Yet another thing a lot of people didn’t know about Harry; he was a big hand holder. His mouth kissed your neck, hickeys forming on your skin. He groaned and moaned your name as he penetrated you. A mixture of moans and giggles filled the silence, a sort of sweetness that came from the art of love making.

Usually, Harry would encourage you to say his name even though it was the first thing to leave your lips when you found yourself under him. He enjoyed letting the neighbors hear that he was solely yours as you were to him. But the soft whisper of his name falling from your lips was satisfactory enough. He focused on your breathing and on your shaky breath as you were reaching closer to your climax.

Although you were both panting in the end, his limp and exhausted body falling next to yours, his aftercare was sweet within itself. He kissed you as he cleaned you up. He got your pajamas, dressing you and joking around that moments ago you was doing the exact opposite. 

When he pulled on his cat slippers and his glasses fell over his eyes, his loving gaze took hold of yours. He cupped your chin, kissing you and letting you know he loved you the most. Happiness radiated off his body, the both of yours souls made to be one. 

After a moment of kissing, Harry abruptly pulled away and looked at you with bugged eyes. 

“Ah shit,” He said. “The tea. It’s getting cold.”

[archeronduarte]

this isn't a wip ask, but do you have any ravenclaw headcanons? 💙

Some of my absolute favourite people come from the Ravenclaw house. Yes I am looking at you Sam, Marina and Emily. 

But from the characters that I write about, or want to write about, my most obvious one's are Victoire and Dominique. I have spoken about the latter quite a bit on my tumblr lately. One of the other cousins that I have placed into Ravenclaw is Lucy Weasley, but I haven't really thought about their character yet. But two of my absolute favourites are Lysander Lovegood-Scamander and Lily Luna Weasley-Potter, who I only recently really started to work out for myself. I’m going to use the ‘keep reading’ feature here because I don’t want to cloud people’s dashboards! x

Lysander Lovegood-Scamander (he/him) is trans and aromantic, asexual. a Ravenclaw just like his mother. I think Lysander takes more after his father in personality. He has his mother’s blonde hair and eyes, but is a little more level headed than his sibling. Where ‘Lorcan is floating through life’, Lysander has both feet on the ground. 

He’s very education oriented and unlike the rest of his family, he’s not very involved with magical creatures. He likes them, he has always loved living with so many of them and he found joy in visiting his parents' sanctuaries and loves hearing about their work. But Lysander has been more interested in taking over The Quibbler as an editor. He loves writing, he loves doing research, he loves debating and wants to always show people the truth through the Quibbler. He even turns down a job at the Daily Prophet for this though they have been getting better over the years - he still feels like they are not truthful and still show a painted and twisted truth of serious matters most of the time.

During his years at Hogwarts he owns a column in the Quibbler with special thanks to his mother. So he spends a lot of his time on research, doing interviews with people that are important to the subject and writing the column.

Lily Luna Weasley-Potter (she/they) is panromantic, asexual. She has her mother's eyes and freckles and when she was little they said she looked a lot like her mother. Until she cut her hair in her before her very first year at Hogwarts with some encouragement of Dominique. She cut it short and it was a lot like Harry's unruly, messy hair that we know so well and she loves it - making her look more like her father. 

She's very witty, she's quick to respond to remarks (not like me who only thinks of the right thing to say when laying in bed overthinking situations that happened). She loves to (respectively) point people's mistakes out by giving them the right facts, always basing her arguments on facts and knowledge that she acquires through her studies. She's very education and knowledge-focused. 

They love subjects like Defense Against the Dark Arts, Ancient Runes, Arithmancy and History of Magic - her aunt Hermione, cousin Rose and her talk about these subjects a lot. She tutors some of her cousins and Lysander on certain subjects that they struggle with in exchange for sweet, preferably sugar quills. The only subject she has difficulties wrapping her head around is Divination and Herbology, but luckily her sibling Albus is there to help them with the latter. 

Lily wants to discover the secrets of the history of muggle and wizard kind, knowing they are very closely tied together. She also loves studying up on everything to do with the Dark Arts, curses, dark artefacts and their history. I'm slightly leaning toward a future for them as a Cursebreaker but it's something that I need to think about and work out more. But I would love to have them interact with Bill and learning from him - a little like Albus has with Charlie. 

People often see her as 'boring' or as ‘too direct and difficult to interact with’. But she knows she's much more than that. She's rational, assertive and frank but also reliable, compassionate and pretty laidback when around the right people. People that are assertive and therefor know their boundaries scare some people, she often says, it’s just because they can’t control them because these people know what they do and don’t want. 

I have a lot more to think about and work out for Lily as a character and I’m having a lot of fun writing her in a very new way in which I feel much more comfortable. For now I will leave it at this! x

[loveissupernatural]

                                To Love in a Foreign Land

                                    Draco Malfoy x reader

Chapter Two: To Britain

[ Read Part 1 here ]

The fateful morning of your journey to London arrived in a tizzy of flying clothes and misplaced luggage. You didn’t have to meet at Ilvermorny for your final portkey until that night, but it didn’t stop you and your mother from running around the house like two chickens with their heads cut off. You barely had time to stuff down a sandwich before your mom ran into the kitchen holding another handful of objects that she thought you simply couldn’t live without.

“Mom, I can’t take my entire room with me!” you laughed.

She sighed. “I wish your father were here. He could cast one of those expandable spell-thingies on your suitcase and we wouldn’t have to worry about all of this.”

“Only two more years and I can cast it myself,” you shrugged. “We’ll just have to pack like you’re used to packing: the non-magical way.”

After much debating and the rearranging of your travel items, the time finally came for you to leave. You soaked in every moment of conversation with your mother in the car, knowing that when it came time to take the portkey to Massachusetts, she couldn’t come with you. You held her hand for the entire hour-long drive. You both held back tears.

The car turned onto a dirt road surrounded by ever-thickening pine trees, and you knew that you were getting close. Your heart began to hammer and your palms began to sweat. The path eventually widened out into a large stretch of bare farmland, an unassuming old Chevy truck parked at the end of the road. This is where your letter from Ilvermorny instructed you to stop.

You spotted Eleanor’s beaming face and that of her parents’ a few feet away from the red, rusty vehicle. They were talking to a portly wizard in sweeping navy robes. She smiled and waved enthusiastically when she spotted you climbing out of your mother’s small Toyota.

“Hey, Y/N!” she grinned, running toward you. “Can you believe it? It’s almost time!”

She circled to the car’s trunk with you and your mom, helping you to haul out your luggage. Her chipper voice carried across the vast, unplowed field, as did the stately deep baritone of the waiting wizard.

Once you all approached the truck, Eleanor’s parents greeted your mother, exchanging pleasantries and anecdotes about how difficult it would be for them not having their daughter home.

“Oh, but we’re so thrilled for her,” Eleanor’s mother gushed, clapping her hands in an almost childlike manner. “We were hoping that she’d take the opportunity as soon as she could to travel.”

“It’s definitely going to be hard not having Y/N home,” your mother said sadly, hugging you to her side one last time. “The house will feel so empty.”

“Ellie told us that your late husband went to Hogwarts?” her father asked gently. “I’m sure this will be such an adventure for Y/N.”

You smiled, quickly wiping away the tears that began to flow with the back of your hand. “I think it will be.”

“Time to say your final goodbyes,” the portly wizard stated, tucking his golden pocket watch back into his robes. “Our portkey will depart in a few minutes.”

He started to walk toward a forlorn-looking scarecrow in the near distance that, if you weren’t mistaken, was beginning to glow. You turned to your tearful mother, her nose already beginning to turn red from the sniffling. Seeing her cry only made your tears flow faster.

“Your dad… he would be so proud of you,” she whispered, her hands resting gently on your cheeks. Her thumbs wiped at your unstopping tears.

“I love you, Momma,” you choked, embracing her with all of your strength. Your tears soaked the chest of her cotton t-shirt.

“I love you so much, baby,” she replied. One of her hands carded through your hair. She pulled away reluctantly at the call of the impatient wizard to ‘mind your time’. She lowered her head and her wet eyes looked directly into yours. “You better send me an owl as soon as you get settled, okay? I need to know that you made it in one piece.”

You jokingly saluted. “Scout’s honor.”

“One minute!” called the man in the navy robes, clapping his hands together in a signal to hurry. You and Eleanor, luggage in tow, sprinted across the remaining ground between the truck and the portkey. The scarecrow was glowing brightly now, almost pulsing.

The man held whatever luggage of yours that he could, huffing with the effort, eyes trained on his pocket watch. You and Eleanor appreciated his help, despite his somewhat cold and business-like manner. You all reached out a finger to touch the portkey.

The effect was instantaneous. The sensation of a rope pulling at your navel jerked you forward, your feet lifted, and you were spinning and spinning in a whirlwind of color and weightlessness. You locked eyes with Eleanor, noticing a green tinge overcoming her face. She’d warned you in the past about her tendency to get portkey sickness.

It was over as quickly as it had begun. With a thud, you and Eleanor landed backside first on soft and grassy ground. The robed wizard floated down to land gracefully on his feet, seemingly unbothered by the whole ordeal. One of Eleanor’s suitcases landed hard enough that it popped open. The two of you were rushing to stuff its contents back inside. Your friend’s face made it very clear that she was still feeling nauseous.

Once Eleanor’s luggage was in order, the two of you stood and brushed yourselves off. You were finally able to take in your surroundings – the towering mountains, the dark green grass, and the looming silhouette of Ilvermorny pressed against the shadowy heavens. The sun had already set in Massachusetts. The towering school blended into the night sky, only the lit windows distinguishing it from the stars that twinkled behind.

“Not gonna lie, I’m going to miss this view,” you admitted, taking a deep breath of the cool mountain air.

“Same,” Eleanor sighed.

You didn’t get to enjoy the view for long. The stout wizard was hurrying you two along toward the front gate of the school but you were having trouble keeping up with the heavy suitcases swinging from your arms. Only when you drew closer did you recognize the voices and silhouettes of the other exchange students, and the tall mauve witch hat of Headmistress Pukwould.

“Hurry up! Hurry, now,” you heard her insisting, pointing to various nearby spots of ground. “Beauxbatons over here. Yes, yes, Miss Valdez, over here by the old shovel. Mr. Reynolds, you’re going to Mahoutokoro, you need to be by the bushes with the plaid pair of gardening gloves.”

You respected that your Headmistress was personally here to ensure that everyone got to where they were meant to be. She could have easily relegated the task to a professor, but she was invested enough in this endeavor to oversee it herself.

“I’ve got your Hogwarts kids, Celestia,” the wizard said, standing proudly. “Where do they need to go?”

“Ah, ladies,” she grinned, doing her best not to sound overwhelmed, “you two are taking the tea kettle over near the gate.” She pointed in the direction she expected you to go, then quickly turned and ran toward a group of boys screaming, “No! Stop visiting and get to your designated portkeys! They’ll be leaving any minute!”

“A tea kettle? Think that was on purpose?” you snorted, sprinting toward the gate.

“Oh, definitely,” Eleanor grinned.

Once you were settled by your softly glowing tea kettle, you looked around at the nearby grounds. You could vaguely see the shapes of the other students standing around their respective balls of glowing light, witches and wizards much like your navy-robed companion staring at their pocket watches.

“Now, listen closely,” the wizard said, scratching his mustache nervously, “you’ll be arriving on a street in London, right outside of the Leaky Cauldron where you’ll be staying. Someone from Hogwarts will be there waitin’ for ya and tell ya what you need to do next. Got it?”

“Wait, you’re not coming with us?” Eleanor demanded.

“Nope, my journey ends here.”

You two hardly had a chance to nod before the portkey began to pulse. Her face was growing greener by the second.

“Now?”

“Now!”

You barely touched the glowing tea kettle before you were jerked away into a zero gravity world of rotating colors.

                           _______________________________

There was a slickness on the cobblestone street outside of the Leaky Cauldron, making the flickering light of the torches reflect back beside your feet. You’d surprisingly landed smoothly, but you couldn’t say the same for poor Eleanor. She was sprawled by your feet surrounded by dropped luggage, breathing shallowly.

You reached down to help her up. “You okay? Take deep breaths!”

“I – I fucking hate portkeys,” she managed to seethe, hands on her knees.

“Oy!”

Both of your heads snapped up at the deep voice to see a large, bulking shadow lumbering out of the nearby magical pub. As the shape stepped closer, you realized that it was the silhouette of an enormous wizard with a messy beard and hair to match. Fear trickled through you, after all, you barely came up past his stomach – but when he stepped into the torchlight, you saw a kind smile and sparkling brown eyes. Your fear melted under the warmth he seemed to radiate.

“Ya gotta be th’ students comin’ over from th’ States, yeh?” he asked in a hearty grumble, leaning down to take both your luggage and Eleanor’s with ease.

“Uh, yeah, yeah, that’s us,” you smiled, awe still etched in your expression at the man’s size.

“Nice to meet ya!” he exclaimed, reaching out to shake your hand with a garbage lid-sized hand of his own. “Me name’s Hagrid, Keeper o’ Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts. I’ll also be one o’ yer professors.”

“I’m Y/N,” you introduced yourself. His huge hand could’ve enveloped fifty of yours.

Hagrid looked over at Eleanor, but she was turning increasingly green.

“Blimey, ya’ look like yer gonna be sick,” Hagrid said with concern.

Eleanor gulped, glaring at the innocent tea kettle laying in the street. She could barely speak. “P-Portkey.”

“Ah, Professor Dumbledore thought ya migh’,” Hagrid nodded, reaching into multiple large pockets that covered his vest. It looked to be made of some kind of animal skin. He was looking for something. “’ere we are!”

His large hand held out a small, wrapped candy of some kind. Bright letters across the wrapper read Sick-Be-Gone!

“Oh, thank you,” Eleanor gasped, snatching it out of his hand and popping it in her mouth. Her eyes closed and she sighed as if savoring a rich dessert.

Hagrid chuckled. “Reckon tha’s better.”

“I’m Eleanor,” she smiled, shaking his enormous hand. “Thank you, Hagrid.”

“Welcome ter London, Y/N an’ Eleanor!” he said with a large grin, turning back toward the Leaky Cauldron with all of your luggage in his huge arms. “Follow me. Tom’ll get ya up to yer rooms, I bet yer tired.”

“Ugh, that sounds amazing,” you groaned. Eleanor agreed.

The bar was a bit dusty, but obviously had so much character and history that you barely noticed. An older wizard stepped out from behind the bar, smiling. He was missing a tooth or two.

“Name’s Tom,” he said, shaking both you and your friend’s hands. He waved his wand toward the bar, and a rag sprang to life and began to clean a few small glasses. “Hope all that portkey travelin’ didn’t rough ya up too much.”

“Hagrid had us covered,” you smiled. Hagrid grinned behind you.

“Well, I got two rooms for ya upstairs,” Tom said. He motioned for Hagrid to put the luggage down, and with a wave of his wand, the bags were floating as if being carried by invisible people. “They’re next to each other. Follow me, Missus.”

You and Eleanor went to follow Tom and your bags, but Hagrid stopped you.

“Almos’ fergot,” he said quickly, “you two meet me down ‘ere in the mornin’, aroun’ nine. I’m gonna help ya git all yer school stuff!”

The two of you nodded, exchanging goodnights with Hagrid so that Tom could show you your rooms. You followed him up a few rickety, winding staircases before he came to a stop on the third floor.

“Miss Y/N, you’ll be in 310, Miss Eleanor in room 312,” he said, flicking his wand once more so that the doors opened and your respective bags floated to your bedsides. “Let me know if ya need anythin’.”

“Thanks, sir,” you said, stepping into your room and eying the bed longingly. The Leaky Cauldron was far from a five-star hotel, but it was comfortable, and that’s all that mattered.

“Goodnight, sir,” you heard Eleanor say from her room. Tom dipped his head and walked back down the stairs.

“See you at nine,” you smiled, poking your head into Eleanor’s room. It was identical to yours, only with a different bedspread. She yawned and waved.

“Night, Y/N.”

You hastily changed into your bedclothes and sank into the warm, soft sheets. It suddenly hit you just how draining traveling by multiple portkeys could be. You looked forward to the day that Apparition would be an option. You drifted into a deep sleep filled with dreams of floating across the sea from America to Britain.

                                 ___________________________

The next morning went by in a flash. You and Eleanor met Hagrid downstairs in the Leaky Cauldron as planned, following him into the back alley behind the pub and watching in amazement as the bricks parted for you at a few taps of his pink umbrella. You were puzzled by the lack of wand but decided not to ask.

You obviously had your wand and owl already, but you still needed the necessary books, potion ingredients, and plain black Hogwarts robes. Hagrid pointed out Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions, waiting outside as you and Eleanor strolled in to be fitted. He was too large to enter the shop, he told you two with a bit of a blush.

“Hello, dears,” the slightly frazzled woman greeted. You assumed she was Madam Malkin. She waddled out from behind a table beside the three-sided mirror, pins and thread adorning pincushions on both of her wrists and sticking out of odd places on her green robes. “I’ll be with you ladies in just a moment.”

Madam Malkin rushed over to a group of waiting children, pushing them in turn toward the mirror and apple box-like stand, lifting their arms and pinning excess material quickly. Within a matter of ten minutes, she’d finished altering robes for four of them. When the last small child rushed out of the door, she approached the two of you, brushing her curling grey hair out of her plump face.

“Sorry ‘bout that, there are always so many first years,” she chuckled exasperatedly. “What can I do for you? Need longer robes?”

“We need new robes altogether,” you answered with a grin.

“You’re not from these parts, are you?” she asked, noticing your American accent.

“We’re exchange students, it’ll be our first year at Hogwarts,” Eleanor answered.

“Ah! How exciting,” she chippered, already rushing to a pair of racks not far behind you. “Slip these on, dearies, let’s see how they fair.”

Eleanor stepped onto the platform in front of the mirror first, lifting her arms without having to be told. Madam Malkin pinned her sleeves and the hemline of her robe quickly. She pointed out a group of shelves near the front windows that contained skirts, sweaters, and button up shirts that were refolding themselves. She told the two of you exactly what you would need, and what the weather was normally like.

“Your turn,” she smiled at you, motioning with a pin-filled hand to step onto the box.

The bell tingled as the front door to the shop opened, announcing the arrival of new customers. Madam Malkin turned from you to greet the newcomers, but her smile faded and her face paled. You followed her gaze in the mirror.

A pale woman with light blonde hair stepped into the shop, her emerald green robes shimmering and flowing behind her in a way that would’ve been majestic if the look on her face didn’t appear as if she was smelling something foul. Behind her walked a young man that appeared to be your age, with skin equally as fair and hair equally as blonde. His face was pointed, but very handsome, his pink lips and sharp jawline accentuated by his sharp grey-blue eyes and neatly groomed hair. They wreaked of money and wore their beauty proudly, but the air that surrounded them could not be described as pleasant.

“O-oh, Mrs. Malfoy, what a pleasure to see you,” Madam Malkin bowed, but it was obvious that their presence was anything but a pleasure.

Mrs. Malfoy nodded but did not return the sentiment. “My son, Draco, needs new robes,” she stated matter-of-factly, turning to him and resting a pale hand on his shoulder. She fixed Madam Malkin with an icy glare. “His school robes from last year are already ridden with holes. I expect better quality from any business that we frequent.”

“My deepest apologies, Mrs. Malfoy,” the frazzled woman bowed again, grasping her hands together in anxiety. “You’re absolutely right.”

Draco was smirking behind his mother, obviously taking enjoyment in watching her scold the shop owner like a small child. The butterflies in your stomach that were stirred by his appearance were instantly dampened by the expression on his face. You didn’t like the way these Malfoys were treating the older woman.

“We expect the finest materials, Malkin,” Mrs. Malfoy sneered. “If this reoccurs, I’m afraid we’ll be taking our business to a, erm—” she glanced around the small shop, her nose wrinkling, “—more fitting establishment.”

“O-of course, of course,” the shop owner stuttered, obviously shaken by the threat. “It will not happen again, Mrs. Malfoy.”

The blonde woman hummed, seemingly satisfied with how much fear she instilled in Madam Malkin. Draco stepped forward, browsing a nearby rack of more expensive robes and quickly picking a few pairs. He seemed to know what quality looked like, judging from his well-fitted black suit and shining silver serpent ring.

“I - I’ll be done with this young lady in just a moment,” Madam Malkin said nervously, turning to you with pins glinting in her shaking hands. You suddenly felt uneasy about her handling sharp objects with the Malfoys present.

“Unacceptable, I’m afraid we have a tight schedule to keep,” Mrs. Malfoy stated simply.

Draco strolled up to the mirror with the robes folded elegantly on his arm, his reflection making direct eye contact with yours. It felt like his sharp eyes could see every secret you possessed and you felt equally flustered and unnerved. You couldn’t decide if you liked the feeling.

“Are you deaf?” he asked in a voice that was as sharp as his eyes. A smirk that echoed his mother’s pulled up one corner of his mouth.

Your eyes narrowed, and the butterflies were dampened again. You looked to Madam Malkin, asking for her support with your gaze, but she sheepishly avoided your eyes. Not in the mood for drama on your first full day in Britain, you rolled your eyes and stepped down from the platform. You hated the smug smile that curled onto Draco’s handsome face.

“Asshole,” you muttered under your breath, walking to where Eleanor stood by the window shelves. Draco’s eyes locked with yours again in the mirror and he scowled. You smirked yourself, knowing that he’d heard you. His mother obviously did not.

“Who the hell do they think they are?” Eleanor whispered to you, pretending to card through a stack of sweater vests.

“Well, whoever they are, they sure as hell think their shit doesn’t stink,” you whispered in reply, glaring at the back of Draco’s shoulders as Madam Malkin bent to pin his robe hem. Her fingers were still shaking.

“If I wasn’t trying to make a good impression on my first day here, I’d hex the shit outta them,” Eleanor hissed quietly.

You nodded; although, one look at Mrs. Malfoy told you that she wasn’t one to be trifled with.

“I mean, poor thing, look at how nervous they make her,” you said, watching the scene with pity. Draco was now snapping at Madam Malkin for stabbing him with a pin. “No wonder his robes aren’t perfect, they’re yelling at her every two seconds.”

In double the time as it would’ve taken Madam Malkin to pin anyone else’s robes, she finished with Draco’s. He huffed out a “finally”, throwing them all into her arms and strolling back toward the front of the shop to his mother. Mrs. Malfoy muttered something about returning in an hour to pick up the robes, turning and strutting out of the door in a sweep of emerald green.

Draco went to follow, but then he stopped directly in front of you and Eleanor. With an irritatingly attractive smirk, his gaze grazed your body from your shocked face, down to your toes, then back up again.

He winked.

With eyes glinting like slate, he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his smooth black suit, turned, and sauntered out of the shop.

With anger, you realized that your face was a million degrees and the butterflies in your stomach were throwing a full-scale revolt. You didn’t hate the sensation as much as you should, as much as you wish that you did.

“The fuck was that?” Eleanor asked unabashedly.

Your cheeks were so hot that they were almost numb. “I — I don’t know.”

Madam Malkin rushed over to you, stumbling apologies on her lips. You could only make out “very wealthy” and “longtime patrons”. She finished pinning your robes in a rush, her face still flushed in what you could only assume was embarrassment. She murmured that both of your robes would be ready in a few hours, avoiding eye contact, then shooed you both out of the shop. If you didn’t pity her so, you would’ve been offended.

Hagrid was waiting for you two, looking up from a small wooden carving that he was whittling with a large knife. Seeing the looks on your faces, it didn’t take him long to make the connection.

“Venturin’ a guess tha’ ya met the Malfoys?” he asked gruffly, distaste evident in his tone. “Rotten lot they are.”

“Yeah, what’s their problem?” you demanded. “They treated Madam Malkin like she was a servant.”

“They fancy ‘emselves better than mos’,” he growled. “Pure-bloods, they are.”

Eleanor groaned, and you echoed it. In America, pure-blood mania had all but disappeared over a century ago. A limited number of wizards arrived on the large continent, and after a handful of centuries had passed, it became more than obvious that the pure-blood families would have no choice but to inbreed if they wanted to keep their status. Some even tried, but magic would die out of the families if their kind didn’t eventually mate with No-Majs. Barely a wizard was alive in America today that wasn’t half-blood or less.

“Are you serious?” you asked. “That’s still a thing here?”

Hagrid chuckled at your tone. “Jus’ ignore ‘em.” He stopped and pointed down Diagon Alley to an old shop painted in black. “Righ’ there’s where ya need ta git yer potion supplies.”

The rest of the afternoon was spent gathering the last of what you needed for your first day at Hogwarts, but you couldn’t stop thinking about the oddly beautiful yet unbearably cold mother and son that had swept into Madam Malkin’s. You gritted your teeth. But then you tried not to blush as you recalled Draco’s piercing eyes and self-assured smirk. And what the hell was that taunting wink all about?

Darkness had fallen by the time the three of you finished shopping. Hagrid treated you and Eleanor to a small but delicious dinner downstairs at the Leaky Cauldron. You were to meet him downstairs again in the morning for King’s Cross Station.

“Make sure yer wearin’ Muggle attire,” he reminded you on his way out the door.

“Wait, what? What’s a Muggle?” Eleanor asked, confused.

Hagrid chuckled, understanding. “Wha’ we call non-magic folk.”

“Ahh,” you nodded, smiling at the odd term. “We say No-Maj in America, like ‘no magic’.”

“Makes sense, I reckon,” he smiled through his thick beard. He waved a large hand. “See ya in th’ mornin’.”

In a tired haze, you and your friend trudged up the multiple flights of stairs, carrying all of your purchases from the day. Once you’d exchanged goodnights with Eleanor, you stuffed all of the supplies and robes into your suitcases haphazardly, anxious to get to sleep. You had to get up early in the morning to look your best before you left for King’s Cross. Your future peers were going to see you for the first time, and first impressions mattered.

Your eyelids became heavy as you watched your lamp fizzle out, excitement and nerves lazily tying knots in your stomach for what was to come.

[ Read Part 3 here ]

[quinintheclouds]

Common misconceptions of Ravenclaws:

The straightman in every scenario

Says "you're embarrassing me" to friends

Always quiet and introverted with no exception

Tired of other Houses' wackiness and rule-breaking

Book nerds who only care about hard facts and dislike artistic pursuits

"Hermione Granger/Percy Weasley should've been in Ravenclaw"

Robots/emotionless

Rule-followers and enforcers

Knows the answers

Good grades

Teacher's pet

Canon Ravenclaws:

Canonically broke into the astronomy tower at midnight to watch a meteor shower, had negative House Points that year (worth it)

ARE the "embarrassing" friends bc they don't care if they're being odd

Wins the House Cup least of all Houses because they don't care about rules that don't make logical/moral sense

Asks the questions

Creativity is one of the main tenets of Ravenclaw House, ALONG WITH wit and learning

Are told by teachers to "keep it down" as much as Gryffindors bc they stay up all night discussing/debating philosophy, practicing instruments, and experimenting with spells/potions that often go horribly wrong

So. Many. Puns. (It's wordplay! It's the toys of language!)

Often late/poor attendance because they got caught up in non-homework-related projects; forgot the homework entirely

Gets in trouble for altering potions recipes or changing spell instructions "just to see what happens"

Try crazy things and do random stuff "for science"

"How do YOU know it's not real? We thought the earth was flat until we investigated! So how do you KNOW wrackspurts don't exist?"

Luna Lovegood

Can be outgoing or reserved, loud or quiet. Will talk extremely fast and enthusiastically when excited

George should have been in Ravenclaw (Fred in either Ravenclaw or Slytherin) -- inventors and visionaries, creative, poor grades despite knowing the subject matter and displaying high level spells, experimented with their inventions instead of going to class, etc.

Make up majority of Hogwarts choir and music groups, "the most artistic House"

Often reprimanded for not wearing uniform because "I'm just expressing myself, professor!"

Daydreamers with big imaginations. One of the reasons Rowena Ravenclaw wanted to have the common room in the tallest tower -- big windows to stare out of and daydream

Learning is more important than knowing; theories are more important than facts

Absolute disasters -- messy and disorganized but happy that way

Curiosity killed the Ravenclaw

Emotionally aware

According to the wiki, the most accepting House. (Hufflepuff is most tolerant, i.e. will treat you the same despite your differences, "don't worry, you're just the same as anyone else!"; Ravenclaw is most accepting, i.e. will listen to you and learn about you so they can accept and understand you for who and what you are, "your differences matter and you deserve to embrace them")

Infamous for being strange. Aka "The weirdo House." Members are often called crazy or loony.

Value eccentricity, uniqueness, and individuality over conformity and normalcy for the sake of the status quo

"Ok I KNOW there's a test tomorrow but it's really boring let's sneak out and see if we can talk about the essence of existence with some ghosts"

[angellissy]

Chapter one:  Platform Nine and Three-Quarters

A/N: Hi guys, I am so happy that so many are excited for this series. Burning Desires sparked my creativity again and I am so happy for it. Just a side note, I just started working again so my updates might be slow but I promise I will continue this series. i love you all. thanks to all my supportive friends you all know who you are and i adore you guys. but if you don’t know who you are here is a quick shoutout, you all have helped me so much @pogue-writings​ @downbytheouterbanks​ @drewstarkey​ @outrbanks​ @myjjbaby​ @adoreyoudrews​ and so so so many more thank you

Her mother’s smile was big, teeth and all. Her crimson red lipstick made her skin look even paler, there was not a hint of color to be seen on her cheeks. Her mother had spent minutes in front of the mirror, pressing white powder on her cheeks. She believed a fairer look would make her appear younger, in her daughter’s eyes it just made her look terrifying. But that was also the reason behind her smile, it had to be big in order to cover all the lies that lied beneath the facade.

“Don’t feel pressured to start crying too, I doubt anyone is looking.” With her black hair, rosy cheeks, and bright green eyes, Ophelia Lancaster was nothing like her mother. Except for the fact that they both shared the same cold and icy tone while talking to each other. Her mother scoffed at Ophelia, but still, let her eyes flicker between the masses of people crowding the platform. Mrs. Seraphine Lancaster thrived of attention, therefore it suited her that the Lancaster family was one of the most well known in the wizarding world. 

“Come on now girls, no fighting.” Like every other time, her father tried to calm them, his soothing voice, and the way he placed one of his hands on either of their shoulders, was his way of creating peace. Though it only worked sometimes, and that was usually in situations like this, when there were people everywhere. 

“Is that the Cameron’s I see?” Her mother asked, slightly squinting her dark eyes. Her father followed her lead and adjusted his glasses to try and get a better look. “My dear, I believe it is.” Her mother clasped her hands together in delight, her heels made the most awful sound against the hard concrete as she started walking towards them. Her husband soon followed her lead, but stopped and turned around when he noticed that his daughter was not going with them.

“Uh yeah, I think I am gonna skip saying hi to them this time, I have to get a good seat.” Ophelia gave him the sweetest smile she could muster, her father looked between her and his wife. It was obvious that he was debating what he should say, he would either get the wrath from his wife or the disappointed looks from his only child. 

“Oh okay then, have fun darling. Do not forget to write to us!” Ophelia rolled her eyes at that, during her five years at Hogwarts she had not forgotten to write even once. Every Sunday she would sit down in her bed, feather quill in one hand and a paper in the other. She would retell her whole week, leaving out minor details of course. She was not about to tell her parents about the parties she had been too or the dates she had gone on, some things could be left out with a guilt-free consciousness. 

“I won’t, tell mom I said goodbye.” Her father opened his mouth to say something but when he did Ophelia was already gone, trudging through the masses of wizards and witches to try and finally get on the train. She passed countless students, some she recognized more than others.

“John B I don’t want to carry your-” The boy in front of her paused, looked at the owl in the cage he was holding with two fingers. And Ophelia could not really see, but from the way his body shivered, she assumed he was making a disgusted face. 

“It’s a bird JJ, thank you very much.” The other boy snatched the cage from the boy standing in Ophelia’s way, muttering something about how this JJ always had to be so dramatic. 

Ophelia pushed past them too, she just wanted to get on the train and find a good seat before all of them were taken by some snotty first years. But unfortunately for her, most of the good compartments were already filled by something worse, third-year students. They had gone past the phase of being terrified by the elder students, and they had also started to get to know how things worked at Hogwarts. So naturally, they had decided that they were superior. This was not true, they were just cocky because they were gonna start reading Defence Against the Dark Arts. As she watched them chatter and whisper through the glass, a small sigh escaped her lips. The third-year at Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry had been Ophelia’s best, she had aced all her classes and done that with friends by her side. But they had soon wandered a path she did not want to be a part of, therefore she now found herself sitting alone in an empty compartment that smelt like old feet. She did not necessarily miss her old friends, especially not when she saw what they were up to in the common room or how they jinxed people in the halls. No, Ophelia simply missed the laughs they had shared, the ones that make you clutch your stomach and gasp for air. She missed how they used to sneak out after curfew to discover more of Hogwarts, she sometimes found herself missing how Rafe Cameron had grasped her hand when they had been walking through a really badly lit corridor. But whenever those thoughts and memories resurfaced, she quickly did everything in her power to push them away. 

With delicate fingers, she opened the leather bag that had been gifted to her from her late grandmother. It was one of her most prized possessions, her grandmother had been the only person in the Lancaster family that ever seemed to actually see Ophelia. And with her gone, Ophelia could only trace the embroidery on the bag and long for the day someone would once again, see her. She pulled out Voyages with Vampires by Gilderoy Lockhart from the bag, the man himself might have been a bit of a fool but his books were still entertaining. Therefore a content sigh left her lips as she turned over the first page, but before she could even read the first sentence, loud voices interrupted her. 

“There is not one seat left, that’s what we get for JJ trying to flirt with some girl.” You recognized the voice, but without a face, it was difficult to figure out who it belonged too. But you had heard that name before, on the platform, and said boy also received complaints at that time. 

“So what? I am just trying to have some fun.” This sentence resulted in a bunch of protests from whoever was standing outside the door, saying that girls were not just there for some “fun” as he had put it. Ophelia continued to watch the door, curious to see what faces would appear in the glass window. She was a bit taken aback when she locked eye contact with Sarah Cameron, not expecting her to be among those loud voices. Sarah quickly lit up, and a bright smile spread on her lips as she slid the door open.

“Ophelia, would you mind if we all sat here?” The blonde girl that Ophelia used to share all her secrets with when she was younger, gestured to the abundance of new yet familiar faces that stood behind her. She recognized the girl with curly brown hair, she was the Hufflepuff girl that put up posters and loudly argued for house-elves freedom. Next to her stood her trusty companion, the dark-skinned Ravenclaw whose hand was always reaching towards the ceiling when questions were asked during class. 

Sarah grabbed one of the two lighter haired boys by the hand and dragged him towards a seat. “This is John B, you know the guy I always used to have a crush on in the first year?” Ophelia did know, Sarah used to gush about the boy with the long hair and freckled skin every time they saw each other. A lot had happened since, but apparently they had managed to find their way to each other. 

“Yeah, I remember.” She answered, a little unsure of what to say, because what do you say to someone that you have not spoken to in ages? The sofa she was sitting on rocked a tiny bit when the other blonde-haired boy threw himself down next to her. His red-tinted robes were a bit messy like he had just thrown them on in a hurry, not at all caring that his tie was all crooked.

“Sarah, you gonna introduce me to this beautiful girl or what?” He flashed Ophelia a cheeky grin while she just rolled her eyes. “Aren’t you supposed to be a Gryffindor?” She asked while tilting her head to look at him.

“Yeah, why?” A small smile spread on her lips as she watched him furrow his brows in confusion. “Well, I thought they were supposed to be brave, and you are asking your friend to introduce us.” His friends snickered at that, watching and waiting for what he would answer. But he just looked at her, and then he leaned closer to her ear and whispered his name, JJ of course, he was the only one left. His voice was warm and it made her skin tingle, so naturally, she placed a hand on his shoulder and pushed him back.

“Was that brave enough for you, Ophelia Lancaster?” He made sure to emphasize every syllable in her name, proving that he had not needed an introduction after all. Once again she rolled her eyes at him and leaned back into the seat, this was definitely going to be a long ride. 

[ransjac]

[ captain hook. natalia dyer. twenty four. demigirl, she/them. ] was that just JACQUELINE HOOK? always easily noticed due to always having LEATHER BOOTS said to have been given by their parent. JAC currently reside in THE CUT.  and being RESOURCEFUL, DAUNTLESS, UNFORGIVING, & STUBBORN  could in no doubt seeing them gaining the reputation of being THE HELLION. @fyeahobxfms

Character’s full name: Jacqueline Delmare Hook Character’s nickname: Jac is most common, if they let you call them something else you’re probably special to them although they’d never admit it out loud Sexuality: pansexual Occupation: bartender / art forger Birth date: October 25 Star Sign: Scorpio Myers Briggs: ENTP-A (the debater) Hogwarts House: slytherin Enneagram: Type 8 (the challenger)

Physical Appearance Faceclaim: Natalia Dyer Gender: Demi-girl Height: 5′0 Build: Small Eye color: Blue Glasses or contacts?: Occasionally, colored contacts Distinguishing marks/scars: long scar along their left forearm that they sustained in a fight, birthmark behind their right ear Hairstyle: usually shoulder length, messy, wavy/curly Clothing style: frequently changes, usually baggy, fairly simple but with accessories

Personality Mood character is most often in: Jac generally appears relaxed, but is always ready to fight Sense of humor: Sarcastic, self-deprecating, similar to Nick Miller (New Girl) and Chandler Bing (FRIENDS) Character is most at ease when: either painting or drinking Most ill when: they feel suffocated or that others are trying to control them Enraged when: someone steals from them Depressed or sad when: they can’t see a way to change/feel stuck or trapped Life philosophy: “Ten years from now, make sure you can say that you chose your life, you didn’t settle for it.” Greatest vulnerability or weakness: her siblings, when it comes to them, she tends to get a little blindsided

Relationships with Others Opinion of other people in general: generally distrustful, but they do find people entertaining for the most part Does the character hide their true opinions and emotions from others? absolutely not, Jac doesn’t have time to pretend nor do they see the point in it Most important person in character’s life: she has a soft spot for Hux Dating experience: one serious relationship, but generally casual flings or friends with benefits

Wanted Connections

- “ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ sᴏʙᴇʀ. ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛᴇᴅ sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ sʜᴏᴜʟᴅᴀ ᴀsᴋᴇᴅ. ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ sᴛᴏᴘ ᴀᴄᴛɪɴɢ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇx ɪ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ʜᴀᴅ “

this could go one of two ways!

jac was the one that had has feelings for them, but never said it outloud claiming “it was so obvious !!” now there’s some tension between them

it was casual / exchange of goods (like a place to stay/drugs/alcohol/sex/etc), but eventually one of them felt taken advantage of or that it eventually became more than they bargained for

- “  ᴅᴏɴᴛ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴋɪssᴇs ᴜɴʟᴇss ᴛʜᴇʏʀᴇ ʙɪᴛᴛᴇʀ. ɪᴍ ʜᴏᴏᴋᴇᴅ ᴏɴ ᴛᴏᴜᴄʜᴇs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴡᴇᴀᴋᴇʀ “

these two are not good for each other and they know it, but somehow they can’t stay away either

- “ ʏᴏᴜᴠᴇ ɢᴏᴛ ᴀ ᴅᴀʀᴋᴇʀ sɪᴅᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ɪᴛ’s ᴀ ᴍᴇss ʙᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏɴᴛ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʜɪᴅᴇ “

they can’t lie to each other. there’s something comforting between them that they can’t quite explain

- roommates [1-2]

- good ol’ enemies 

   - maybe jac sold them a forgery?? they just dont vibe?? 

but literally??? up for anything especially if it’s kinda chaotic or causes drama!!

[hati-writes]

Harry Potter and the Family who Loved him

What would have happened if Harry Potter had got the family he deserved, one that loved and supported and protected him no matter what? Maybe something like this...

When Harry Potter was three years old his uncle locked him out of the house at ten o'clock in the evening because he’d spilt a glass of orange juice across the floor. A passing stranger saw the toddler sitting on the front doorstep and shivering and called the police. Half an hour later Harry Potter had been officially removed from the Dursley’s custody.

Upon hearing of this Dumbledore immediately got involved, Harry Potter needed protection and he needed it immediately. The authorities wouldn’t hear of the child going back to his Aunt and Uncle’s home and, forced to think very quickly of a suitable foster family for a young toddler who needed to be out of the media, raised well and, most importantly, protected; Dumbledore turned up on Arthur Weasley’s doorstep at six in the morning with a tired and confused three year old by his side.

Harry Potter grew up surrounded by family and love and the confident feeling of being wanted. He had a twin brother, a younger sister and five older brothers along with a mother and father who never let him feel he wasn’t a part of their family.

Ron Weasley grew up with a twin brother, a best friend who he spent all of his time with. Together they tried and failed to play pranks on their brothers, argued happily about Quidditch teams, learned to cook with their mother and always had someone to rely on.

Harry’s first accidental magic occurred when he was six years old and woke up with bright red hair to match the rest of his family. His excitement was overwhelming and only matched by his disappointment when it faded back to black after a few hours. He spent the next few months begging his mother to let him dye his hair until she finally relented and charmed it as ginger as Ron’s for him.

No one ever noticed Harry Potter when he went out in public, not when he was just another red headed Weasley child running about with his brothers. Harry grew up as a perfectly normal child, aware of the Wizarding world and confident of his place in it.

When his Hogwarts Letter arrived addressed to a ‘Harry Potter’, Arthur Weasley sat down with Harry Weasley and explained how his birth parents had been killed by You Know Who and how Dumbledore had brought Harry to them. He reassured his son that he was still absolutely and one hundred percent his son, how Harry would never stop being his and Molly’s son no matter what. Harry went to bed with a lot of mixed feelings, but still never needing to doubt that he had a family who loved him.

Hagrid had kept in touch with Harry all his life and, when he bumped into the Weasley’s doing their annual school shop insisted on buying Harry an owl to congratulate him on reaching eleven years old. To make it fair he also bought Ron a set of gobstones and clapped them both so hard on the back the brothers almost fell over.

When his trust vault was revealed to him at Gringotts Harry was determined to give it all to his family. Molly was equally determined that Harry would not give away his inheritance. After a long argument when Molly told Harry he would need to save for his future and Harry retorted that his mother had given him so much and he finally had the chance to give something back they managed to compromise. Harry would buy all his siblings school supplies each year but would not pay rent or any other money to his parents. Ron started his Hogwarts career with new robes and a brand new wand. When Draco Malfoy came to sneer at them on the train he asked which of them was the famous Harry Potter; and Ron and Harry Weasley just laughed at him.

It took Harry a moment to realise that McGonagall was calling him up at the Sorting Feast, having been waiting for the end of the alphabet and he felt his stomach twist. He’d half believed Fred and George when they’d said you had to wrestle a troll, and had been relieved it was just a hat, but now half wished it could be a troll instead, how could he show a hat he was brave enough for Gryffindor? He wanted to make his parents proud and get into the House all Weasley’s were in, to show the world he was really a part of that family. The flood of relief as the hat shouted ‘GRYFFINDOR’ to the school was indescribable.

When Snape faced down the first year Gryffindor’s he didn’t see a miniature James Potter looking up at him. Instead he saw Lily’s bright green eyes flanked with messy red hair and almost did a double take. He didn’t treat Harry any better than any other Gryffindor, but he couldn’t bring himself to treat him any worse either. Not when he seemed to see Lily looking at him reproachfully from the eleven year old’s eyes. Instead he avoided him as much as possible and never set him a single detention. He still took plenty of points however, and his bullying of Neville certainly made Harry and Ron hate him well enough.

Charlie Weasley had taught Harry to fly a broom when he was five years old, impressed with his little brother’s skill. When Draco grabbed Neville’s Remembrall and flew away there wasn’t a moment of hesitation before Harry was following him up. The dive for the small sphere was no different from the apples he had practised Seeking with with Charlie and he caught it with time to spare. He was terrified when Professor McGonagall came storming out, but being put on the Quidditch team was a dream come true and he almost burst with excitement. Molly and Arthur were incredibly proud of their son and sent him a new broom, a Cleansweep Five. Secondhand of course, but Harry treasured it more than anything else he owned.

Hermionie had been fascinated by the chance to meet Harry Potter, the boy who lived, and then confused when he angrily corrected her that he was Harry Weasley, and Ron was his twin brother. She had struggled with making friends, and Ron’s accusations of being a Know It All who no one liked had stung. It wasn’t until Halloween came, and Ron and Harry came to save her from a troll that she found herself with two new friends, twin brothers. She never failed to refer to Harry as a Weasley after that, understanding his desire to be publically seen as part of his family.

They all still suspected Snape when Harry’s broom went haywire at the Quidditch match, and Hagrid revealed slightly too much about Fluffy and Nicholas Flamel. Searching for Flamel took simple ages, although Harry debated simply asking Percy for a long time. He knew Percy was very good at knowing which wizards had achieved great things recently, and he would certainly know who Flamel was. They decided that the secrecy was too important in the end, but it was a close call.

At Christmas Harry received a Weasley jumper, the same as he had been given at every Christmas for as long as he could remember. He complained that his mum always gave him emerald green, just because it matched his eyes. He and Ron swapped their jumpers and dug into the sweets and other gifts from the rest of their large family. Their present piles were exactly the same height. The only difference was the invisibility cloak from an unknown gifter.

He shared the cloak immediately with Ron of course, but after a moment of thought he also let the twins borrow it occasionally. McGonagall was driven half mad by the sudden increase in impossible pranks Fred and George were capable of. In return Fred and George lent them a map that they’d found in their first year, one that showed the position of all the people in the school as well as every secret passage.

While prowling around the school under his cloak Harry ran from Snape into an empty classroom and found a mirror that showed images that could not possibly be true. He stood reflected in the mirror, Ron next to him with his arm across Harry’s shoulder and Molly and Arthur stood behind them both. Flanking Molly and Arthur was a dark haired man Harry had only seen in photos that his parents had shown him and a woman with bright green eyes exactly like Harry’s. His brothers were there too, and all his extended family...more than his extended family. As he stared he saw that, mixed among the Weasley relatives he already knew, were people he’d never met but who must be related to him...more brilliant green eyes, knobbly knees just like Harry’s, a shy smile like the one in the family photo Molly kept up in the living room. Harry leaned against the mirror, staring at the family he loved, and the family he had never had a chance to know.

He brought Ron there the next night, Ron who saw himself as Quidditch Captain, and Harry standing next to him as Head Boy, both of them holding up the House Cup and standing out from all their family and, even more importantly, standing together. They visited the next night too, and the one after that despite Ron’s misgivings, until Dumbledore arrived and warned them both away.

When Norbert arrived Harry thought of Charlie immediately, having grown up listening to Charlie’s obsession with the beasts and well knowing where his second oldest brother was and what he was doing. It took a long time to persuade Hagrid however, and getting rid of Norbert was so stressful Hermionie and Harry forgot the invisibility cloak at the top of the tower. But Harry found the anger of the school for the lost points was easier to deal with when his family had his back no matter what. Fred and George reminded him of all the times they’d lost huge amounts of points, Charlie wrote a letter apologising for being involved with the scheme that got his youngest brothers shunned. Even Percy admitted that it seemed a harsh punishment just for being caught out of bed.

Ron felt overwhelmingly guilty when Harry and Hermione went into the Forbidden Forest, he actually asked McGonagall if he could share their detention, just because he couldn’t bear the thought of something happening to his twin while he wasn’t there. They hadn’t been apart for as long as they could remember. McGonagall refused to let him however, and he sat up the entire night, waiting for his best friend and his brother to return. And when they did he wished even more that he’d been there to help somehow.

Exams came and went, and the mystery of the Philosopher's Stone continued to nag at Harry, Ron and Hermione. They began using the Map to keep an eye on the Third Floor Corridor, trying to see if Snape was attempting to break in and subdue Fluffy. Finally exams were over, just as Harry realised the significance of Norbert’s egg, that Snape now knew how to get past Fluffy and that the Stone was in danger of being taken by Voldemort. Dumbledore was gone and the trio decided they had to save the Stone themselves.

Sneaking out at night, stopping Neville from revealing their plan, Harry took comfort in having Ron and Hermionie with him. They used the map to check if Snape was in his office and then began their journey. Harry was supremely confident when catching the key, after years of flying lessons, and he proudly boasted of Ron’s skills at chess when they reached the room with the giant board. Unfortunately Ron sacrificed himself and Harry and Hermionie continued on alone. Hermionie was left behind in the potion room and Harry continued on without anyone to come with him at all.

He faced Quirrell, faced the spectre that had been haunting his nightmares, the twisted, evil face of Voldemort himself. He took comfort in the knowledge that Ron would be fine, that his family would come looking for him no matter what, that Voldemort may have taken his parents away from him once, but Harry still had a family and parents who loved him. He kept that thought in his mind as Quirrell lunged at him, the love he had for both his families, the one that had died saving him, and the one that had raised him. He thought of them as Quirrel screamed, and as firely pain swept over Harry, sending him falling into unconsciousness.

Molly was distraught when the school contacted her to say that both her youngest sons had been injured, and one was still in a magical coma from it all. She tore down to the school immediately to check on them, and was only reluctantly persuaded away by Dumbledore’s reassurance that Harry would be fine after some rest. She didn’t sleep easily until Harry woke up and wrote to her to tell her that he really was fine and she didn’t need to worry anymore. She wondered how to tell him that she would never be able to stop worrying about any of her children, no matter how old they got.

The Feast was spectacular, especially when Gryffindor won against all the odds. Harry thought it might be his happiest memory from a life filled with good, happy memories. He hugged Ron and they both got swamped by the rest of Gryffindor House, all screaming with delight.

On the way to the train home, Hagrid stopped Harry, giving him a photo album. When he opened it to the first page, James and Lily smiled up at him from their wedding. On the next page, he stared at Molly and Arthur dancing and laughing at their wedding. Photos of the Potter’s at school were side by side with photos of the Weasleys. Both his families; put together. Speechless, Harry stared up at Hagrid, and impulsively threw his arms around the Gamekeeper. Unable to express his gratitude with words, he hoped Hagrid understood. Judging by the way Hagrid hugged him back, and the soft smile he gave the eleven year old, he understood perfectly.

Harry got on the train, to head back to the only home he knew, a ramshackle tall building in the country, with a lawn full of gnomes, a broom shed in the apple orchard and the largest most loving and perfect family Harry could imagine. He couldn’t wait to see what next year would hold for him.

[stilesloverdaily]

You Found Me

Cedric Diggory x Hufflepuff!Fem!Reader

Words: 4k 

Warning: sad cause Cedric is dead and i’ll never forgive JK for it. ANGST, FLUFF. reader is hufflepuff. SERIOUSLY prepare tissues

♡ playlist ♡

Cedric ran out into the Hufflepuff common room, shrugging on his House cloak with one hand as he rushed to get to his potions class, as he’d slept in. “Crap.” The sixteen, soon to be seventeen, year old boy whispered to himself as he stubbed his toe on the chaise on the way out of the boy’s dormitories. A tendril of his hair fell in front of his face for a moment, before he ran his hand through it.

Helga shook her head above the fireplace at the boy’s foul language, before turning back to what she was doing, taking a sip from a golden cup. Her badger-covered-frame on the yellowish brick wall, as the sun fell in from the circular windows near the low ceiling. A fire aflame in the fireplace, continuous and homey, cheerful. Green plants covered the room, hanging and potted, ferns and ivies as well as the cacti dotted around the space. Occasional feet passing by the windows, creating brief shadows in the light. The rounded transparent glass showing the flowers and grass of the floor level to them.

“Sorry.” He quickly apologised to both Helga and the bumblebee coloured chaise. Diggory opened the rounded door and ran through, his books in his arms. A gasp took him from his frantic mind in a rush as he hit something. Reaching forward with one arm automatically, he caught the arm of the girl he had ran into, helping her stay upright. “Sorry.” He spoke once again.

Y/N looked up at the taller boy, with brown locks, fair skin and grey eyes, the boy wonder, the golden boy of the Hufflepuff house. Cedric Diggory was the captain of the Hufflepuff quidditch team, where he played seeker, and was also a school prefect. She had had the biggest crush on him, everyone did, and kind of looked up to him as a person as they were in the same Hogwarts house. “It’s okay.” She spoke softly, her cloak slowly falling from her shoulder.

Her eyes held a warmth that Cedric hadn’t seen before and it made his stomach feel a light, reminding him of the fireplace from the common room. His eyes showed a light that was hard to see around here, something that was optimistic and merry, unlike the events of the previous years at their school.

“I was in a rush, and I wasn’t really paying attention.” Cedric muttered, his palm still on your forearm and his eyes still locked onto yours. “I should actually head out, um…” The boy trailed off, lost completely in you.

“I’m Y/N.” 

“Cedric.” He hummed.

She coughed after a moment, stepping out from his arm, reluctantly. Shaking her head lightly, a hair falling from her ponytail as she motioned behind him, “I forgot my Transfiguration textbook…” He slowly nodded as she stepped around him and towards the entrance honey-coloured wood barrels.

Spinning around to turn to Y/N, “Wait.” He held his arm out, grabbing her wrist lightly as he spoke. Turning around, her skin tingled at the limited skin to skin contact that there was, due to her cardigan sleeves higher up her forearms. Her eyes gazed up into his as he spoke, “Did you want to uh,” He shifted on his feet. “Want to hang out later?”

Cedric’s Potions class was gone from his mind, even if he would be chewed out by Slughorn, something in him needed to talk to her. Y/N smiled at the boy wonder, “Yeah, I’d like that.” What can she say, it was like they were drawn together.

Three months later

They had been dating ever since, even if it took him a couple times to officially ask for her to be his girlfriend, and Cedric had never felt more content. 

She supported him through his games, cheering in the stands in her black and yellow wool scarf, her jumpers and earmuffs, sometimes he even got distracted due to how cute she always looked. It felt weird for her to be dating the captain of the quidditch team and a prefect, as though all eyes were on them, but she didn’t care and people were nice about it.

The two of them became the golden couple.

Y/N was there for when he wanted to put his name into the goblet for the TriWizard Cup, even though she assured him that he didn’t have anything to prove, he understood but guaranteed you he wanted a challenge and to show that Hufflepuffs weren’t dimwits or duffers and could win such a prestigious award. She admired how loyal he was to their house, and it became one of the things she liked about him, his loyalty.

Cedric had been through the first two TriWizard events, tying first with Harry Potter, and to say that Y/N was on the edge of her seat during the events, was an understatement. She barely sat, having to always shift out of nerves for her beloved boyfriend. After the first event, she was sure that the next two events would leave her anxiety driven.

The second event, she was submerged as part of the task. Although not in real harm, Cedric had reached the village not long after Harry, and was shocked to find the item stolen from him was Y/N, and that she wasn’t safely on the sidelines. He swam directly to her in an instant and freed her from the restraints, not having the previous knowledge that she was indeed in no harm.

Once back on the shore, she had awoken, informing her boyfriend that she wasn’t in any harm, but he still held her face in his hands and checked her over for any signs of trauma. Giving her a short kiss, it was a reassurance if anything, but also a show of care.

A towel was placed over her by a teacher, before she grabbed one for Cedric. Hugging him in the towel, to help share her body heat and the need to hold him closely after terrifying events. Her heart was pounding against her chest, absolutely knowing he could feel it, but she couldn't help it, even if he was using a Bubble-Head Charm. He appreciated Y/N so much, the thought of putting her through so much worry or her being in any danger was the only downside to the tournament, he hated to see her so filled with anxiety or worse, hurt.

Her arms were wrapped around his torso, trapping him in the towel with his arms underneath, her head resting under his chin as they warmed each other up; her towel wrapped across her shoulders and held taut in her hands to keep herself warm also. Cedric beamed to himself, before moving to kiss the top of her head, humming against her. She smiled softly into him as he moved so his left cheek sat on top of her hair and closed his eyes, embracing her touch.

Cedric could stay like that all day. With her, safe.

The night before the final task, Cedric had asked Y/N to meet him in the common room, as he had wanted to take her somewhere special to them.

On their first official date, the captain of the quidditch team decided to take Y/N to a hidden spot he’d found in the castle that was abandoned. To get to this special place, you had to fly. He took her on his broomstick, after a small debate whether she trusted him or not. The conversation had begun upon the sight of his broomstick and the allusion it was safe to have two on it. She had rejected at first, saying riding with two was difficult, to which he bragged about being an experienced flyer.

She trusted him, of course, he was the head of her house’s quidditch team. But, she wanted him to work for it a bit. Y/N, of course was a trusting person anyway, it was in her nature, in her appointment to her Hogwarts house.

After small playful banter, she agreed although still nervous. Ced just had a playful smirk on his face as he assured her it was safe, which got her thinking how many girls he’d flown to the hidden spot or had just ridden on the back of his broom, causing her tummy to flip anxiously. Ignoring that feeling, she got on behind him and held tight and the journey to their destination was one to awe at.

Flying high, the two flew above the castle, amongst the clouds, passing the moon. Looking at their school, she noticed how breathtaking it could be from this angle, the castle’s sharp spikes giving a thrilling allusion but also providing a strong fairytale atmosphere. The lights in the castle windows made their flight feel dangerous in the sense that they could get caught, giving an excitable ailment to their ride. Gazing across the expanse of their school, she smiled leaning against Cedric’s back with a content sigh.

Cedric didn’t refuse the contact, feeling tranquil at her touch.

After rounding the castle a few times, Cedric flew to one of the spiked coned roofs, that held light through an opened rectangular window, easy to spot in the darkness. Flying closer to the window, he asked her to get off and into the window which she scoffed at, no way was she getting off a broomstick this high to get through the window.

“Please?” He softly spoke.

Y/N sighed, holding him tighter as she shuffled close to the windows edge, and successfully climbing through the window. He smiled and waited for her to safely get inside before climbing in himself, holding his broom securely.

Y/N opened the round honey wood door, spotting Cedric straight away standing with his arms behind his back as he swayed on his feet, staring at a knot in the wood floor. He was wearing weekend clothes, a grey sweater that complement his eyes, a yellow shirt collar poking out from underneath, some dark brown khaki pants accentuating his long legs, and some black converse fitted on his feet. His hair was styled messy, with little gel, a curl left hanging above his right eyebrow.

Upon hearing the door open, he saw Y/N quickly shutting the door to the girl’s dorms so as to not let light into the room, before she turned back to him. She was also wearing weekend clothes; a pair of black skinny jeans around her legs, frilly white socks in a pair of dijon coloured flats, a pale peach t-shirt with loose dandelions on, a black school cardigan and the classic house scarf. Her hair was down, and pushed behind her ears as she beamed up at him, the firelight lighting up her soft features.

Her smile was contagious as his lips turned up, as he smiled from ear to ear whilst she walked towards the centre of the room to meet him. Leaning down slightly, he kissed her lips briefly and pulled back.

Chuckling softly, she laced her arms behind his head and pulled him back in gently to kiss him again, for longer. It was sweet, full of passion and caring, a peaceful moment between the two. Helga noticed the two kissing, and as she was about to say for them to go to sleep, she held back, letting them be young. A smile to her face as she looked on at the two, not creepily but with remembrance, to be young and in love.

Pulling apart, he smiled softly down at her, “Ready?” Nodding, the two headed towards the door to exit the common room, Cedric walking behind her like a gentleman. Helga decided that she would keep their secret rendezvous to what it was, a secret. Passing through the castle kitchen, the two made their way to a door leading outside just like their first date. Coming across a broomstick on the floor, Cedric muttered the one word and it was up and infused with the young warlock’s magic.

Flying that night was much like the first time they had done it, whimsical and thrilling. The wind whipping through her hair, causing her nose and cheeks to become rosy from the brisk air. Stars out and scattered across the sky, a rather clear night few clouds could be seen in the moonlight. Y/N tightly held her boyfriend, having complete trust in him after having done this more than once before.

The two had come up for secluded dates during the weeks, and alone time that could only be shared between the two.

After reaching the spiked roof, Y/N climbed off, quickly followed by Cedric, the candlelight illuminating the space. The space never stopped to take her breath away.

Candles were placed safely around, lighting the area, a blue cerulean blanket on the floor surrounded by a few random pillows of different patterns and colours. A picnic basket stood to the side of the blanket, the weaved hamper holding delicious goods. The two had brought things like plants and photos to help decorate over time, the former proving quite difficult.

Sitting in their regular spots, the two began to discuss everything and anything, always falling into conversation easily. The topic of the following day’s task talked about briefly, but not wanting to worry Y/N, Cedric decided to change topic. They discussed the letters they had received from their parents, and what was going on at school. She mentioned a wacky conversation that Seamus, her and Ben had that day in their Care of Magical Creatures class and the joke that the Weasley twins had told her earlier on.

The two talked for what felt like hours as they ate and drank apple juice, until Cedric grabbed her hand, looking her in the eyes. She smiled at him and as he kissed her hand, she realised something. Although they had dated for almost a year, nine and a half months, she decided that she, Y/N Y/L/N, was indeed in love with Cedric Diggory. They had both said they loved each other about two months after they met, but she didn’t just love him, she was in love with him. She saw a future with him, yes they were seventeen, but she saw it all.

Marriage, kids, and a happy life. Together. 

Cedric however, had seen this about four months in, seen his future with Y/N, had seen that he was in love with her, everything.

He reached into his back pocket with the hand not holding hers, pulling out a bracelet. It was threaded, with thin green-ish leather straps, a heart pendant hanging in between a woven section. “I want you to have this.” He spoke softly in the quiet air between the both of them. She awed at the bracelet as he tied it around the wrist he was holding.

“It’s beautiful.”

It was, although simple, it had felt like the most complicated, amazing piece of jewelry she had seen.

“I was going to give it to you after the task tomorrow, but I decided to do it now to say thank you.” He sighed softly, moving his eyes from her wrist to her eyes. “For staying with me through all this Cup tournament thing. For loving me as much I love you, and being the best thing to come into my life. Although I was sorted into our house, with my accomplishments I doubted whether I still belonged to it, or if I had betrayed it somehow. But, you showed me that I haven’t, you’ve humbled me and brought me back down to earth, been with me through the highs and lows. I love you.”

Tears had slipped from her eyes, to which he happily wiped away, claiming something as beautiful as her shouted be crying. Leaning forward, Y/N kissed him with all she could wrapping her arms around him, breathing in his familiar scent that she’d become accustomed to.

The two seventeen year olds fell into each other’s arms, cuddling each other tight, holding the other close as possible. Before the two of them fell asleep, however, they decided to go back and rest up for tomorrow. Whilst Cedric prepared the broomstick, Y/N blew out the candles, coming to the decision that they’d clean up after he won tomorrow.

As the candles died out, all that was left was the darkness of the room, when a chill ran over her shoulders, as she glanced back before leaving on the broom. Ignoring it, she hugged Cedric tight on the broom, they’d be back tomorrow probably.

Y/N had never screamed so loud, her heart had been ripped from her as she ran forward towards the maze wall.

No, it wasn’t true.

They were going to get married, have kids and have a happy life together. It couldn’t be.

More specifically, she didn’t want it to be.

The two had gone to the final task, a maze, with high hopes and hopeful smiles as Cedric was in the lead. He was so close to winning, they could taste it. He walked her to the spectating area, to which she gave him a kiss for luck, before he joined Harry, Fleur and Viktor near the entrance. She should’ve known, something about the kiss didn’t feel like luck, it felt like a goodbye.

She pulled him in tight, her lips against his in a smooth motion as they fit together perfectly, a tug in her stomach which she ignored as he let the moment take them before he had to go.

Her body shivered from the cold british air, the clouds hiding the warm sun, calling a dreary nature to the day. Y/N had turned to Hermione and Ron, wishing her best to Harry as well, which they returned for Cedric. She did the same with Fleur’s sister.

She stood staring at the wall in anticipation for what felt like years, swaying on the balls of her feet in her usual way that she had been during the first task.

Only for Harry Potter to emerge, with Cedric in his arms lifeless. He was shouting about Voldemort had murdered him, and that Cedric was too good to die by an accident, but Y/N’s ears were ringing, she barely heard anything the glasses wearing brunette said.

Each step forward she took was equal to the harsh beat of her erratic heart, a shrill scream at the sight of the boy exiting with the boy she was in love with in his arms. Approaching his body, Harry had moved away, tears staining his cheeks much like hers, her hands reaching for Cedric’s face and chest as she knelt beside him. Her cries were resounding throughout the field the maze had been placed on.

Bringing his head into her lap, she dragged his upper body into her arms, crying over his corpse. She heard faint voices and felt people trying to pull her from him, but she blocked it out.

By the time the stadium had cleared, and McGonagal helped whisk the maze away, it was just her, Cedric and his parents. She had no tears left, her cheeks stained with the remnants, which made her face taut. Her right hand was softly placed on his left cheek, as if he were to break if she used too much force, his body having become cold and still, his face had paled and any signs of life were gone.

She would have stayed with him like that for eternity if she could, holding him close as if would bring him back. It was only when she heard Hagrid’s voice, who knows how long later, that she was brought out of her trance. Y/N protested against moving, but knew she had to in order to lay Cedric to rest.

There was hardly a funeral, just a leaving feast turned speech about him by Dumbledore, and despite his death, Harry was recorded the winner of the tournament. He refused, even tried to give the money to Cedric’s parents, who also refused. The funds ended up in the hands of the twins for their shop, they say they dedicated the opening to Cedric, she didn’t go though.

His death proved to be an inspiration to students, some ‘Support Cedric Diggory’ badges still linger throughout the castle, his death not in vain. His bravery against Voldemort was unmatched in Y/N’s eyes.

Dumbledore asked if she wanted to say something at the feast/memorial, which she did and Harry didn't.

“Cedric was a friend for all, that’s just who he was. He was loyal, hard working and trusted. His death won’t be in vain, I won’t allow it, neither would he. Cedric would want people to learn and act in wake of his death, stand up for what is right and just. Work hard for peace and care for others around you.” A few tears fell from your speech, as you breathed in. “Thank you.”

Later on, she’d found out from Harry that Cedric wanted him to take his body back to her, whilst he’d helped other people out even after death.

Y/N didn’t return to their spot for about a month, when she finally decided it was time. It was the weekend, she secretly flew up on her broomstick, it wasn’t as magical as it had been with him and it was daytime. Climbing in, the room felt cold, abandoned and just empty, although it was still how they had left it the night before he passed.

Light streamed in through the window she’d entered from, shining on what was left of the candles, the blanket and pillows, the basket and cups as well as the dead plants. It illuminated the badge she had on the wall which Cedric didn’t like much, saying ‘Support Cedric Diggory’. The photos were in clear view, pictures of the two of them sharing happy moments played out in a video before her, along with a picture of him from the start of the tournament. Taken the day he found out he’d been chosen, a smile on his face as he beamed.

The dead plants reminded her of the void in her shattered heart, and how she couldn’t be in the common room unless passing through because the memories were too much. The common room filled with plants and life, it was once one of her favourite places. It reminded her of her loss and all the emotions that happened in that room, everything that had happened in the space she was standing. The struggle to get the plants up safely.

She cried.

She fell upon the dusty pillows and cried after weeks of keeping it together.

Weeks of seeing reminders everywhere, people coming up to her and commenting on how they’re sorry and it’ll get better.

After the sun had faded, she lit the candles as her tears stopped, getting up from her position. She walked to where she placed her broom, reaching for the broom she brought next to hers. Picking it up, Y/N walked to lean it against the wall with the photos. Technically, it was all one wall as she did stand in a cone roof. Standing back, she smiled slightly at Cedric’s broom standing next to his picture, the broom that brought them here many a time.

She hated the thought that one day, she would leave this school and this spot would be empty and cold forever. Or at least until someone found it.

Still staring at the broom and picture, she spoke, her throat scratchy from crying. “I’m glad we bumped into each other, I’m glad you found me.” His photo winked at her and she laughed lightly, twirling the bracelet on her wrist.

Y/N came back every weekend from then on, talked to the space and pictures and sometimes did her homework there, or to get peace and quiet. She said hello to Helga everyday, to which Helga nodded back. Helga made sure to watch over her and watch her grow to be a proud member of Dumbledore’s Army, created in memory of Ced.

She told Dumbledore and Harry about the spot, to ensure that she could come back every year on the day they met, but other than them, the secret spot was never discovered by anyone else. Which made her think how Cedric Diggory found it in the first place.

Cedric never told Y/N that Helga told him about it.

tagged: @itsnolongerteen​ @justsomewritingsandshit​

[honeyedquiet]

you have me

again, so incredibly bad at titles but hopefully i will get better

hermione x fem!reader

word count: 4.4k 

warnings: overwhelming fluff, angst

The cold, damp, mid-January air blew into the open halls, feeling like a harsh slap on (Y/N)’s tear-streaked and blotchy cheeks as the Slytherin common room portrait swung open, granting her entrance into the long, twisting halls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Frantic footfalls and harsh breathing echoed loudly throughout the dark halls of the school as she guided herself through them; she barely even gave thought to where she made a right or left as her mind raced over the crumpled piece of parchment in her fist. Although her eyes were glued to the stone walls before her, she could still see the posh, precise swirls and curls that were formed into letters and sentences that caused her to be in such a state. 

She couldn’t say that the piece of parchment that brought her to such a frantic state was unexpected. She was born into a harsh legacy and as she grew older, she quickly came to realize that the legacy and morals she had begun to grow into were riddled with abhorring prejudice and vile hate that would make any decent wizard or witch’s stomach churn and clench with disgust. She knew that once she started rebelling even the slightest, her family would know and there would be repercussions for her actions. She knew that if she went far enough, rebelled extreme enough, her family would have to choose between their child sullying their “virtuous” and ever-so-sacred legacy or ridding themselves of the disgrace.

When she was confronted for her morals in the midst of her first year, she first tried to deny how disgusting they were. 

(Y/N), Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, and Pansy Parkison were all gathered underneath a thick oak tree near the Black Lake. Their books were open and parchment, ink, and quills were askew on the blanket, though the parchment was black, ink was full, and quills were void of ink. They were all encapsulated in conversation over what exactly they thought resided in the Black Lake when a group of three laid a blanket a few meters away and Draco and Pansy made a face as if they accidentally tasted their ink. 

One of the two boys had black messy hair, while the other one had bright red hair. The third, a girl, had bushy brown hair and buck teeth. They were all dressed in robes with a lion patch on the breast, signifying that they were in Gryffindor. Before (Y/N)’s brain had a chance to think about who was setting up their study space next to them, Draco spoke up. 

“Potter, Weasley,” He spit as he looked at the two boys and the face that Pansy and Draco made had finally made sense to (Y/N). Personally, she didn’t have an issue with Harry Potter, although her parents weren’t entirely fond of him for reasons unbeknownst to her. As for the Weasleys, she was taught they were blood traitors and that was bad. She didn’t know much about the girl, though.  

“And the mudblood,” Draco continued as his eyes laid on the girl. The words that fell from Draco’s lips earned a laugh from Pansy, while Blaise and (Y/N) gaped in disbelief that the word fell so easily from Draco’s mouth. (Y/N) was taught what that word meant and, although her parents said it all the time, she had never. She knew it was a bad word and, although her family morals said it was a perfectly fine insult to call someone, she knew the power that word held. However, to blend in, she laughed and as did Blaise. 

That interaction was one of many between her group and Harry’s and with each interaction they had, the more (Y/N) began to disagree with the insults that flew out of Draco’s and Pansy’s mouth. She never voiced her disagreement or told either of them to stop. She wanted to protect her family; to believe that her family was kind and good. She didn’t want to see just how hateful her parents could be. She knew the morals were strict, being as they were burned and scarred into her brain through painful lessons, but she never was confronted with the fact that they were hateful or discriminatory. Everyone else that she associated in her year in Slytherin had the same morals, so how can so many people be so wrong. Thinking back on it, she could see it was because their families all knew each other and misery loves company. 

It was the summer between her first and second year where she began to ponder more on the idea that her morals were skewed. She began paying attention to what exactly her mother and father deemed acceptable, to how exactly they treated people of different statuses, and to whom their loyalties lay with. She noticed just how differently her family treated people, especially due to their blood status. It wasn’t just her family, though. The Malfoy’s, Parkison’s, Lestrange’s, all of them openly talked about their disgust towards other bloodlines and status. 

When she went back to school in her second year, she began to speak out occasionally in her friend group about her disagreement with many of the morals they were all raised with. Pansy, Draco, and Blaise all thought that she was taking the Mickey with them; they thought that she surely must be joking, no one in their right mind would betray their bloodline by disagreeing with their beliefs. She wasn’t though, she was serious. None of them thought too much of their disagreement though in relation to it affecting their friendship; people live with different opinions all the time 

The belief that they could coexist peacefully as friends with different morals carried them through their third year. However, in their fourth year, (Y/N) couldn’t stand sitting idly while Draco, Pansy, and the rest of the group spread such hate. During an argument between her’s and Harry’s group, she finally snapped. 

“Why don’t you take your stupid little mudblood and blood traitor friends and take a dive off the astronomy tower? I’ve had enough of hearing them speak,” Draco spoke, earning a laugh from Crabbe and Goyle but a loud, disapproving scoff from (Y/N). She could see Hermione’s mouth open to say something but (Y/N) beat her to it. 

“I’m so tired of you acting like this Draco,” (Y/N) stood in front of Draco, placing herself between the two groups. “I know your ickle mummy and daddy act like this but by now, I would’ve thought that you would see the error of their morals,” She continued. She could see Draco’s face set in anger, Pansy’s jaw agape, and Crabbe and Goyle’s face adorning the same stupid, void look. “You’re being disgusting and intransigent-- not to mention completely idiotic. You would think if Hermione was “stupid”, she wouldn’t have higher marks than you and you wouldn’t have that stupid look on your face everytime she puts her wand to your neck.” She heard Hermione laugh. 

“Watch your tongue, (Y/N).” Pansy warned but all it earned was an eye roll from (Y/N). “What’re you going to do?” She challenged with an eyebrow raised in feigned curiosity. She didn’t really care what Pansy was going to do, she knew after this that they wouldn’t be friends so who cared what Pansy did. 

This time, Draco spoke up again. “You’re going to regret this,” He grumbled angrily. “I’ll be writing to my father about this,” He threatened. A chill ran down (Y/N)’s spine, knowing that his father would tell hers. If she was lucky, she may get away with just a howler announcing her disgrace and disobedience. However upsetting the consequences, (Y/N) knew she couldn’t back down now. “I’ll make sure your father hears how much of a little prick you are then, too.” (Y/N) replied, making Draco scoff and turn on his heel as he stalked away with the rest of the group, leaving (Y/N) alone with Harry, Ron, and Hermione. 

Draco kept true to his word and sent his father an owl detailing everything from (Y/N) talking to half-bloods, negatively talking about her family, speaking out against their beliefs, dennouncing her belief in the Death Eaters and their cause, and the incident earlier that day. Not even fourty eight hours later, she recieved a howler in the Great Hall at breakfast. It contained everything she expected. It detailed just how much of a disgrace she was to the family name and how wrong her actions were. It also threatened that if she did not shape up, the next owl she would get would contain a letter stating she would be disowned. 

At the time, (Y/N) often debated on whether or not she should’ve kept her mouth shut and stayed quiet but now, she knew it was the best thing for her to have done. Although Ron didn’t trust her at all, Hermione slowly started to become friends with (Y/N). It was a slow, time consuming process, which was well warranted considering her past friends. She was thankful that Hermione could see how much she had changed. Throughout the year, the four of them became closer, hanging out more and more as the weeks drew on. She began going to hogsmeade with them and sitting with Ron and Hermione when the TriWizard competitions were happening. She loved finally feeling a part of the group, despite Ron’s occasional remarks about how nasty Slytherins are, which, again, with his past experiences, were well waranted, yet not all true.  

Over the summer between fourth and fifth year, (Y/N) was kicked out of her house. She wasn’t disowned by any means but, after disparaging her parents at a Death Eater meeting disguised as a dinner, they said they could not stand to have a blood traitor in their house and so they kicked her out. She was surprised that, when she told Hermione about her situation, she immediately wanted to help. (Y/N) had gotten a room at the Leaky Cauldron and the day after, she was met with a knock on her room door. The knock was no one other than bushy-haired, know-it-all that she had sent a letter to a few days prior. Ron and Harry had already been at the lodge when she got there, unbeknowest to her, so the remaining days until school started, they all hung out. Over those days, her and Hermione got closer and by the beginning of year five, they were practically inseparable now, meaning she could also be found around Harry and Ron as well. She liked Harry and Ron alright, she just felt something different for Hermione but she couldn’t put her finger on it just yet. She knew it wasn't merely a feeling of friendship so she decided to not mention it, being as she assumed Hermione didn’t feel the same way. 

So, she kept quiet again and as the fifth year went on, her feelings developed into something so complex and confusing that she couldn’t think about it for too long without being overwhelmed. She was sure, though, she kept herself together and normal-- that was until holiday break. Hermione, (Y/N), Ron, and Harry all stayed at the school while the others went back to their homes. (Y/N) was thankful that they had stayed, mostly because she didn’t want to stay alone. She still was kicked out and unwelcome at her home so she was forced to stay. 

Harry and Ron were outside so Ron could practice his position as keeper while (Y/N) and Hermione were in the library, studying and reading, although (Y/N) couldn’t focus. She never could around Hermione anymore. 

(Y/N) looked at Hermione over the thick edge of her book before looking back down to the brittle pages, having caught Hermione’s eye as well. Her cheeks went pink, realizing that it was the fourth time Hermione had caught her staring. She took solace, though, in the fact that Hermione’s cheek adorned the same tint of light pink as hers. 

“What?” Hermione asked in a whisper. Her tone was a mixture of annoyance and amusement. She had been scanning the dusty book for a piece of information that (Y/N) had long forgotten about. “Is there something on my face?” She asked, her hand coming up to wipe at her cheeks. (Y/N) shook her head with a quieted laugh. “I was about to ask you the same thing, Granger,” She teased, trying to play off her panic. “Every time I looked up from my book, I caught you staring.” 

Hermione’s cheeks tinged a deeper red. “Every time that I looked up, you were staring as well.” She pointed out, earning an eye roll and a huff from (Y/N). “So what is it?” Hermione asked after a brief moment of expectant stares. “You’ve been acting weird these last few weeks too. I mean, I know we’re all stressed but is there anything else?” This question struck a new chord of panic inside of (Y/N) as she shook her head a bit too quickly. “No, really, nothing is up.” (Y/N) said, although the slight waver in her tone did everything but convince the girl in front of her that she was telling the truth. 

“(Y/N)....” Hermione started, a teasing smile on her face. It was odd to see her so carefree and talkative in the library. “Come on, tell me,” She pressed and (Y/N) shook her head, meaning to convey that she had nothing to tell but Hermione took it as the secret wouldn’t be told. However, she dropped it; not for long though. Over the next few weeks, ( lY/N)’s feelings did everything but go away-- in fact, she could almost have swore they grew exponentially. She couldn’t focus when sitting next to Hermione, couldn’t take notes, couldn’t answer questions. Even Professor Snape caught wind of this and moved her away in potions class. That week, (Y/N) distanced herself. She had to get a hold of her feelings before things went awry and she ruined the only friendships she had left. Hermione, as smart as she is, noticed her distancing, of course. Instead of leaving it be, Hermione decided she had enough of it and cornered (Y/N), quite literally, on her way back into the Slytherin common room. 

“What is going on?” Hermione asked. Her face was inches away from (Y/N)’s. (Y/N)’s back was pressed against the cold cobblestone and when her eyes met Hermione’s, she was thankful for being cornered against the wall because her knees felt like the pudding that was served last night for dessert. “Noth--” (Y/N) was cut off. “Don’t give me that! You can’t just be my friend and then pull away like this,” Hermione interrupted. (Y/N) could tell that Hermione was upset by the slight tremble in her voice and she felt her heart sink into her stomach. She didn’t expect Hermione to even notice that she was pulling away. 

“Hermione, please, just let it--” “No! I’m not going to let it go! You’ve been acting weird lately, and now you’re pulling away. What is going on?” Hermione said, her voice stern and she sounded stressed. “It’s not a big deal, I haven’t been acting weird. I don’t understand why you’re thinking that I am but i’m not.” (Y/N) was panicking now. If she told Hermione how she felt, she’d be putting herself in a vulnerable position of both ridiculing herself and losing her only friends. “Well you better come up with something to tell me because i’m not leaving or letting you leave until you tell me a damn good reason why you’re acting like this,” Hermione glared at (Y/N), testing her to lie again or come up with a bad excuse. (Y/N) knew that Hermione would hold her word and not let her go, but that doesn’t mean that she would just give in. 

“I haven’t been acting--” “Yes you have!” “No, I haven’t. I think you’re being delusional.” Hermione scoffed. “Delusional? You’re being delusional if you can’t tell that you haven’t even sat next to me in Charms in a week and a half,” The words caused (Y/N) to flush and her heart to beat faster. She didn’t realize that Hermione noticed her actions that much. “or went to the library with me in two weeks! You didn’t go to hogsmeade when I asked you to come with me when Harry and Ron didn’t want to go,” Hermione continued but (Y/N) wasn’t focusing now. She could hear the rushing of blood in her ears and her heart pounding in the pit of her stomach. “You won’t wait for me to walk with you to Herbology, you--” Hermione didn’t get to finish her rant because (Y/N) grabbed her face in both hands and pressed her lips onto Hermione’s. 

The kiss was haste and anxious. (Y/N)’s eyes were screwed closed tightly and she was sure her hands were clammy from how nervous she was. She pulled away almost as quickly as she kissed the brunette and she looked at Hermione nervously. Tears were in (Y/N)’s eyes as she evaluated the expression on Hermione’s face. She had ruined everything. Hermione was going to run away and called her disgusting, Y/N thought, or tell Harry and Ron that they were right about Slytherins; that they were all just as terrible as Draco and Pansy. “Oh, Gods, I’m so sor--” It was (Y/N)’s turn to be interrupted as Hermione’s lips made contact with hers again. 

(Y/N) realized very quickly that her silent longing and painful yearning had been similarly experienced by Hermione as well. They both hid their feelings, deeply believing that there was no way that the other would like them, that they would just have to bury their feelings until they had gone away. They both learned a lesson that night: bottled feelings always reammerge with a vengeance. That night, (Y/N) slept the best that she had in ages while being as she didn’t have her brain pegging her with anxious thoughts and fears of losing her best friend.

From that night on, (Y/N) and Hermione stole kisses in secret, held hands under tables, and stole glances over the tops of textbooks. Harry and Ron caught on after only two days, and once questioning and confronting the girls, accepted and supported what they had. Ron liked to say that he called it when (Y/N) stood up for Hermione all the way back at the beginning of fourth year and (Y/N) didn’t deny that he was right. 

After a few more months, the school began to catch on. Most of the students figured (Y/N) and Hermione were just very close best friends and didn’t think of it any further. (Y/N) and Hermione enjoyed the privacy for a while but (Y/N) knew it was too god to last for so long. 

The old classroom they were in opened, revealing (Y/N), whom was sat on one of the desks, and Hermione, whom was stood between (Y/N)’s legs, kissing. Pansy let out a soft gasp at the sight in front of her before giving an all-too-excited giggle and she ran off. 

Soon, the whole school knew, which didn’t bother Hermione. (Y/N), however, knew what devastation would come in the wake of people finding out the moment Pansy squealed and ran away. Her fears were right when she received an owl a week later. 

(Y/N) was sat in her dorm, working next to her candle as she finished up the last few inches of her Charms essay when she heard a soft coo come from her window. She looked behind herself curiously to see her family owl perched upon the windowsill. She retrieved the owl and gave it water before looking down at the leg, fearing what would be there. A formal letter was attached, detailing every wrong-doing (Y/N) committed in regards to defiling their family’s legacy and rebellion against their harshly-instilled, hateful morals. At the end of the letter was a paragraph that shook (Y/N) to her core. 

“You are no longer a member of the family tree. Your portrait has since been burned and, in turn, have been written out of the family will. Attached is a picture. Send the owl back with your ring.” 

(Y/N) tore the ring off of her finger, throwing it across the empty dorm as tears built up in her eyes, quickly spilling over her cheeks. She didn’t know exactly why her getting disowned effected her like this; she would’ve liked to think that she would laugh and just throw the letter away with ease but, deep down, she thought that her parents still loved her and thought of her as their daughter, no matter how difficult. Knowing that they no longer wanted anything to do with her anymore sent her into a frenzy of anxiety and panic. She crumbled the note in her hands and, not knowing where else to go, she burst out of the dorm and beelined through the common room to the portrait. 

(Y/N) looked up from the stone floor finally, her breaths coming out in heavy, short pants and tears still spilling over her cheeks. She looked at the Fat Lady portrait in front of her, her mind wracking itself for the password. Hermione had told her, just in case she needed to get to her and now that she needed to use it, she hoped she could remember it. Finally, the word fell on her tongue and she spoke. 

“Butterbeer,” Her voice croaked and the Fat Lady swung open without even opening her eyes. 

(Y/N) navigated her way through the Gryffindor common room, having only been there once. Her presence earned surprise gasps and whispers from the Gryffindors seated in the area but no one said anything, all sensing that (Y/N) was not in the mood to be messed with. She quickly spotted the back of Hermione’s head through her teary eyes and quickly made her way over. Hermione stood, turning to tell the closest whispering gryffindors to either comply with the study zone times or go to their dorms but her goals changed immediately when she was met with her crying girlfriend. 

Quickly, Hermione ushered (Y/N) into the girl’s dormitory and asked Lavender Brown to leave for just a few moments before shutting and locking the door behind them. 

Hermione looked at (Y/N) again and frowned. (Y/N)’s chest was puffed slightly as she tried to hold in the ragged breaths and harsh sobs that were begging to pass her lips, her face red and puffy, her eyes were red as tears steadily flowed from them, and her tears were streaked. “Oh, honey.” Hermione spoke and (Y/N)’s composure cracked. A broken sob left (Y/N)’s lips as she melted into Hermione’s arms, her face buried in the girl’s neck. 

Hermione sat them on the bed and held (Y/N) close, laying them down as she let her cry and sob as she stroked her back. Her fingers drifted through (Y/N)’s tangled hair before her hands finally went down to the crumpled parchment in (Y/N)’s hands. Slowly taking it from her, she set it on the nightstand, not reading it. She knew what this was about already, she could see it on (Y/N)’s face when she walked in. 

(Y/N) held onto Hermione tightly until her tears ran dry and her sobs ceased, leaving her with ragged breaths and raw cheeks. She then laid her head on Hermione’s chest, her arms around the girl’s waist tightly and their legs intertwined with each other. (Y/N)  was the first to break the silence after Hermione pressed a kiss gingerly to (Y/N)’s forehead comfortingly. 

“I don’t have a family now,” (Y/N)’s words came out in a soft whisper; it was all she could manage. “They disowned me. I don’t have a home. I don’t have anything,” Hermione looked down at her before sitting up, her action making (Y/N) place her head on a pillow instead of Hermione’s chest. 

Hermione’s cold hands cupped (Y/N)’s cheeks, the pads of her thumbs gently sweeping the tops of them, wiping the remnants of the tears before shaking her head. “My love,” She started, her voice soft and gentle, “you do have family,” (Y/N) tilted her head slightly in confusion. “You have Harry and Ron,” Hermione continued, “You know Ron’s family loves you. His mom constantly asks about you.” This earned a quiet laugh from (Y/N). “And you have me,” She finished and new tears filled (Y/N)’s eyes. She pressed a light kiss to (Y/N)’s lips and looked down at the girl after pulling away, still cupping her cheeks. “I’ll be your home until we can make one together,” Hermione promised, pressing a light kiss to (Y/N)’s forehead again before laying back down. 

(Y/N) moved her head back onto Hermione’s chest, her tired eyes closing and breath slowly stabilizing as Hermione’s fingers continued to move through her hair. She had never thought about someone, not something, being her home. The concept felt new and foreign to her, but never-the-less, it brought her peace. The thought of Hermione being her home brought warmth washing over her that soothed the chill that resided in her spine and eased her racing mind. So, that night, she fell asleep in the Gryffindor girl’s dormitory, fully clothed with shoes on and yet, she had never been more at peace because she was wrapped in the arms of the girl that she loved so dearly, knowing that she had found what she previously thought she had lost and yet worked so hard to get. 

[parseisflat]

prompt 9- "remember that thing you told me not to do?” for hp, any of your otps are fine with it, just write whichever one you want

Ginny stared at the door in growing apprehension. “You’re sure your mum’s not gonna, like, murder me?”

Pansy laughed, pulling a few strands from Ginny’s ponytail to elegantly frame her face. “If anything I should be worried for them,” she said, but Ginny’s forehead was still wrinkled in worry, so she dropped a quick kiss on her girlfriend’s cheek. “Really, it’ll be fine,” she reassured. “Just don’t bring up politics, and you’re golden.”

Ginny nodded to herself, took in a deep breath, and rang the doorbell. 

Pansy’s mother answered the door with a wide smile on her face and pulled Ginny into a hug. “Welcome, Ginevra! Pansy’s told me so much about you!”

Ginny’s eyes were wide and slightly panicked. “Oh?” she squeaked. 

Mother let out a loud, fake laugh and led them into the dining room. Pansy squeezed Ginny’s hand reassuringly - this was already going far better than she’d hoped.

She had gone to dinner at the Weasley’s a week ago, and she’d felt about as out of place as Ginny probably felt here. Pansy’s parents loved to show off their wealth with excessive extravagance, which was why their dining table was about twenty feet long and illuminated by a sparkling chandelier overhead. It was already filled with fancy dishes, placed by their many House Elves. 

The Burrow had been the exact opposite, of course: small, homey, and warm. Pansy had expected to be treated with cold glances and fake laughs. What she had gotten instead was a knitted sweater and a second family.

Ginny sat in her seat, laughing brightly at father’s awful jokes and brightening the room more than the gaudy chandelier ever could. She’d been stressing out all week about meeting Pansy’s proper, Pureblood parents, but Pansy was certain she was the more nervous one of the two. She had a mansion filled with material goods, but the Weasleys had a home.

Pansy excused herself to go to the loo about halfway through dessert. She spent a few minutes adjusting her hair in the mirror, letting the soft, cheesy smile she’d been tamping down all evening finally surface. She’d expected a tense but polite evening; Ginny could charm anyone, of course: she was the head Chaser for the Harpies, half the country was already in love with her. But her parents had never had good things to say about people like the Weasleys in the past… and Pansy was nothing if not realistic.

Yet somehow, halfway through Ginny’s lively retelling of her brothers’ shenanigans at school, father had let out a real, bellowing laugh. Even mother was letting out a few drunken giggles, something neither of her parents ever let themselves do in front of company. Ginny, of course, remained oblivious to what this meant, but Pansy could only watch the scene with wide eyes. In the strange, performative language of the Parkinsons, genuine laughter was worth gold: this was how they expressed acceptance.

She didn’t want to be boring, but the fact that her parents - the Parkinson family - loved Ginny even half as much as Pansy did, had her on cloud nine.

This was why she probably shouldn’t have been surprised when she walked back into the room and was greeted with a sight that made her stop dead in her tracks.

Ginny looked about ready to sink into the floor. Mother was grinding her teeth; Father, looking at Mother in apprehension. One House Elf was hovering in the kitchen, as if ready to intervene at any moment.

The room was deadly silent.

“Hi Pans! Remember that thing you told me not to do?” Ginny smiled sheepishly, face redder than her hair. “Yeah, um.” She surveyed the room once, twice, then turned back to face Pansy with a grimace. “I did it?” she whispered.

Pansy narrowed her eyes, then took a cautious seat. “Is everything alright?”

Father’s words came out tight, as if it was physically paining him to keep his composure. “Pansy dear,” he said. “You know that Merlin’s not real, right?”

She stared at him blankly for a moment, letting the words sink in. “Are we really having this discussion again?”

Mother looked like she could stab someone with her fork, considering how tightly she was gripping it. “Yes, Pansy. We are,” she said in a clipped tone.

“All I said was ‘Merlin’s beard’, I’m sorry,” Ginny said, swiveling to Pansy with wide eyes clearly signaling help. “I didn’t mean any offense.”

“Merlin isn’t real,” Father repeated. “Those damn fools at Hogwarts will tell you otherwise, but it’s brainwashing, and we as Parkinsons do not stand for it.” Mother didn’t even look scandalized at his use of the word ‘damn’, that was how far gone she was.

Ginny looked like her soul was physically leaving her body. “Oh. Right. Of course.”

Pansy slowly stood and pulled Ginny out of her seat as well. This was their cue to leave. “Well, as invigorating as this debate always is,” she laughed nervously. “Ginny left the oven on! You know how she is, haha.” 

Mother smiled a little too wide, finally releasing her death grip on the silverware, and saw them out the door with a batch of cookies - since when did she know how to use an oven? - to go. She hugged them both on the way out, and Father gave them firm handshakes, and then they were out in the snow, free from the clutches of the hate-inducing Parkinson Merlin Argument.

“Your parents are truly an enigma,” Ginny murmured as they walked quickly down the driveway. They apparated away before Pansy even had a chance to respond.

“I told you not to bring up politics,” Pansy giggled when they finally got home, kissing her - still very red - girlfriend before putting away her coat. “I was thinking more blood purity, Wizarding War type shit. How was that even remotely political?”

“I dunno, but they got, like, really mad about that,” Ginny laughed, looking over her shoulder nervously. “Please don’t leave for the bathroom next time. I’m a Blood Traitor heathen, I did not know how to handle that.”

Pansy rolled her eyes and pulled a bottle of wine out of a cupboard. They’d earned a few more drinks before bed. “Oh please, you did just as well as anyone could. Pureblood parents are all a little deranged, dealing with their bullshit every now and then is healthy!”

The kitchen was quiet for a moment, filled only with the clinking of the wine glasses and the soft sound of their breathing. Then-

“Wait,” Pansy looked up abruptly. “Did you say ‘next time’?”

Ginny bit her lip. “Well, you know,” she shrugged, but her eyes were shining. “I’m willing to put up with deranged parents every now and then if it means I get to keep you.”

Pansy dove at her girlfriend, pulling her into the tightest hug imaginable and only let go when the tears in her eyes had cleared away. “I’ll put up with messy Weasley boys too, you know,” she said casually, but the smile on her face gave her away. 

“Yeah, I love you too, weirdo,” Ginny said. The events of the evening were already catching up to Pansy, and the wine was truly dreadful, but as the light of their small kitchen caught on Ginny’s hair, she realized something.

Pansy was more content than she’d been in years: more importantly, Pansy was finally home.

(send me prompts!)